Clock Milk:

They’ve managed to gentrify my rash!
Gastronomic pleasures and their rival,
I say,
β€œmy tiny deaths salt these plates and you dare ask for seconds?!”

Yes, I do
suppose you are a fervent chicken strangler.
This castration line knows the score we settle,
B’aal couldn’t blister such bright hue.


We washed Doritos in the sink,
To halt silk come
From marrying wool.
Prayed the prophylactic to deliver us tasty snacks.
I bathed in her urine in fear of a god I invented.
We spat milk upon the sunset for fucks sake
And cursed the prodigal anything.

“Why do you fuck like a cast Iron skillet?” she bemoaned the foul laundry.
I promised her dinner, and
Bucked the mildew:
“It’s quite presumptuous for us to assume birds sing out of joy”.


You bring the pizza to rival the anal.
Meat-puppet cauldron pantomime for sure shucks the simpleton voyeur.
Γ€ rebours: Non-existence ala friendship in the age of anonymity.

I say, bring me the strange on a gilded platter of heatwave isolation.
I say, don’t speak a name unless your uvula outlines itself in chalk.
I say, habeas corpus implies mere vehicles; sans sanctum.

You voice politics to pardon personality.
Shiny bird feeder tantalizing the reptile crushed β€˜neath the pedestal deemed soapbox.
Prison sentence: Swig some pappy lightnin’ the whole world sits and spins atop this vestigial tail.

You don’t say; the tingle trickling southward of the spinal cord cross are but the nails you seek?
You dont say; television proffers a lone partner for the young professional too busy to freeze their own seed in defiance of sitcom romance?
You dont say; love is the ultimate domestication of your mother’s bear trap?

Affirmation 1:

I say,
shock the system
Piss and vinegar!
Caressing porcelain which does
Warm the fire domesticated into a church candle.
Scapple and rice rustled up to ward off the incense masking kill.
The rotisserie chicken of curse one refuses to spin
Concentrically for carving,
Phooey for fauna,
Sweating the used sheets, we
Develop further rags through constant agitation.
Who dares swear salvation but another suffer away?
Can sleep withstand another blighted darkness held off of nitrates?

Sorry, still
Blood is not sold frozen round these parts!
The air is isopropyl,
Flesh haunts my vision,
Devour abound us,
Disenfranchised by a mattress.
Exsanguinated mannequins’ areolas out blazing like
Bikini Atoll against their lack
Of bones.
Constant company of I sprouting
Carrion idolatry and the like,
To tow surroundings down below itself and
Bellow the anagram of satanical conjecture found in front of ye; us.

Love, too easy a limit.
I spit for luck, a long phlegmatic ouvre doused in kerosene.
Ah the fantasy does trickle this tramp.
I Trespass the man who scowls for cover,
For I scowl (in) truth,
Know not the friend I fiend,
Nor cover dragged in drapes upon
Kin by choice.
Walking anywhere with a sky taunts the sepulcher below and yet
The canine trips over his hind legs in excitement at the smell of shit
but still
My caloric intake beckons the ghetto till the come hither motion of it’s crime wave
screech my name in gaseous colored sunsets.
Hot off the press boys, here is your God covered two-ply.


The cascade domestic
Parlayed in pedestal,
Gallants me mosquito.
Wasted alchemy sent below,
We dine beneath a furrow.

Lee Levinson’s sexual preference is cataclysm. He tweets @schlock_jaw.

*Image credit: Angst essen Seele auf (R.W. Fassbinder, 1974)