This was where we
Spun our cocoons
This was where we set the
Seeds free
Unaware of our
Eight-armed enemy
Invisible filaments drawn
Asterisk or crucifix?
Bumbling bee
Desperate to worship
W/ drunken lane changes
Crashes the silken barricade
And sobers into a hostage
Butterfly army
Sleeps through the storm
As a leviathan would underwater
Birds scream bloody terror at the
Oncoming waterfall's windshield
A weather phenomenon
That spells hospital
Or cemetery
In violet text
Doesn't even set
The web askew
CENTIPERSON
Do you roam yourself like a giant planet
Discovering secret burial grounds,
Orgasmic blindspots
I do
You could roam into the space
Just above your skull and pull
It down through the floor
To excavate a comfort zone that's
Become a claustrophobic
Zoo
Sheep and kangaroos
Are people too
I'm a scavenger of depth, not width
Roaming a grave and salty
Undertow
Few
Can stay on the surface
Of their sunny dispositions
Extreme evolution and
Stunning photographs
Ensue
I could take no pictures of
My journey
I had to draw them slowly
From memory
Why only roam to your
Outskirts of skin?
Lose count of dimensions
In your centipede of nerves
THERMOGENIC
The jaws of rejection
In a classroom
Full of meat
Left out
To thaw, or worse,
Thrown to the ground
Losing teeth
Post traumatic
Dents in their faces
Their slivered cat-eyes
Flat-lining
The bias-cut of a few
Prime numbers
Taste of a loaded,
Bulging society
Passed down in generational sausage
Links
A condition that will worsen
To our hands
Still shaking
Sweating
Giving off heat
Vin Whitman writes in fearful imagery that can make him paranoid, but he's learned to thrive on it. He is working on the social skills needed to do social work. He reads with The Tea House poets in Florida.
