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Unabel am I,
My words in murdermouth.
In the bell of throat a mark is jarr'd.
To err is human
I am the king of men.

Master of collusions in
The first three ticks of Time.

Pixels of my skin in the sun.
A palimpsest limp
Under layers of lacquer.
Forshaken,
The quavering crotchets of my stave.
Sage and sinnerman:
“You oughta be preyin'”

Master of collusions in
The first three ticks of Time.

The knife in my back
Is a key winding down.
Skin thin as biblepage.

Heals in the tug, so tired.
Weight for the wave, tsun on me:
My era of errors erased.
My frozen kneecaps
Melt and flood the seize,
An overtaxed levee.
The pie-eyed piper
Trailing shamblin' children.
Mice-ash and raw ones,
Foreshaken,
Chilled, ring my heart.

All kneel, elated.
Annihilated.

Psoriastasis.
My skin in the wind
Sloughs off in sheets.
A palimpsest limp.
Pixels of my skin in the sun.

Skin thin as biblepage.

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