25/01/2012

Headless Squirrels

I lay hidden behind scarlet upholstery
murmuring into my burning pillowcase
as death and heat pushed through my skin.

(black curls fall in dishonest spirals. I take
a dose of sin. lunatics riverdance around
a bleeding corpse.

my mother cuts the head off squirrels
as she sings songs about disaster and
heartbreak.)

if you look hard enough at the scars on
my head you’d see an island of starving
skeletons craving anaesthetics and love.