Harshes on violets, a pudenda scored with machine-made marks like drunken cross stitch, white like a line scored in the concrete by a park stone, sand stone, "falsh," he drooled, "errorrssss on youuuuuuuuUUUU!," winding up an octave higher and ten trails more screech, baleful and ominous like vinegar lotion pie, the mother who hates you, the mother who feeds you the poison pill and the rancid shout, b r o k e n d o l l s scattered over the transcontinental highway divider like shoes in cyclones, like waifs on candy-coloured cigarettes, gold leaf dildo poems and gingivitis fellatio novels, my parrot, tens of my parrots, in the garden flaming on fire killing, woven through nectarine-stained linens stinking of linseed and open flame warnings, why not, like the wives, like the women in the pool who are completely normal and alienate no one, like that, yellow digital door closed again, back button broken, yellow banana like Liverpudlian nan high on jaundiced sympathies, what can you be against at a time like this, at a time like now, like now, like now, missed it again and forever falling, the unbroken fillials like urine-soaked linens beaten twice daily for their sins, Olympic sins of cash and comorbidities and marital strife floated upon like Houdini in the final moments, Dutch crankiness ignored, small muscles bouncing aghast, frozen, dismal, cantankerous, limited, like a smile, like cheese, like brown ghosts dancing.