their dry tongues split like scorched earth,
opening to reveal other mouths,
kind of like your vagina in labour.
it's got something to say, maybe too much
considering the blood gushing down the
side of your legs and soaking your bedsheets.
the blood forms like continents,
dries in and this world in red is flat like
colombus predicted, it looks like the
rorschach panels used in your
therapy sessions.
i helped an elderly prostitute with a
cracked violin spine across the road
today. brought her home. put her in
the watering can.
the tongue is still parched.
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