Poetry ~ Dream Web

Can of ground confusion,
poured into,
seeping vats of vomit.

Whatever became of the tailor?

Will you weave,
colorful dream web,
of gilded entrails?

Brain: rotted-smelling cantaloupe.
Nothing more.

Unrelenting spasms,
frigid cruel broken down cremes,
that left a stain.

Apply carefully to head & shoulders.

Where blood has been erased.
It suddenly occurs to me!

Only disgrace is success.

Defile the flesh I inhabit!