.
unborn words encircle my neck with pointed...

I am a modern sonnet,
penned by a modern punk...

---
this ripe, fair skin...

Light yawns in the womb of dawn,
spritzing the earth's skin with sticky citrus...

-
words...

Allow me to re-state:
Perhaps fate is a calculated fable...

There's a dim light on my bedside,
that dances quietly as I read myself to sleep...

Spon(com)tan(bust)eou(ion)s!
it tauntsthe speAker in sLow...

I wake to feel my body stretched, violently strewn...
"Creep" by Radiohead plays on the...

They are slanted.
Enchanted...

The world swallows its short-term memory,
holding a breath in its weary chest...

One. Two. Three. Four. I'm counting my steps out...