A ripped curtain
A nipple’s yearning
For that word-forming tickle.
She is an ornament which polish fetches to burn
The moon whored in abnormal orpiment
As if to signal an unkiltered, slent world twirling off its orbit
Smoking them unfiltered, pilfering the skins, cobra milk
She dispenses. My quill obtains a breakaway menace
My old skill is replaced, the snake changes, the chain breaks
Sleeping titans wake, intaking eyes her mutating radiation slakes
Blent lives entwine unseen; all mushrooms one from underneath;
Plunder me, my blundered speech warns of thunder need.
Alchemisland 
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