Force-fed by the creative sounds of rain,
And an epiphany.
Seizures tossed me,
The empathy of my reconstructed self
Pours out like water in a bath,
Milk and poison ivy
Herald in the cross contaminations
Of an irreverent conditional appointment.
I bestow on you the quarter
Section of my spleen.
Oh cake of flesh,
Meet me here in poverty,
As I undress.