Bermuda Triangle of Lost Legs
There’s no good explanation
For your demon switch
Avoid eye contact
& throw the numbers off the bridge.
Count all your
between the sister city of ruthless thighs.
The song goes,
But mine just shivers
& all the old black men
rest their hands on my shoulders
as I piss in the gutter onto a broken at best ensemble
of exotically peeled bruises from the skin of bad fruit.
Give me the eye.
Give me more than you bargained for.
Show me your arms.
I don’t believe in anything like I believe I can’t believe in you.
Voices carry & voices break.
There might be torches set to torch you
But I’m not one.
So please slide the key under the door
So I can double lock this room behind me
& leave your ghost behind,