the cord was pulled out; i screamed like an infant for the suction of love. eureka!

it was a whirlwind of skin particles, dirt, and pieces of wrappers. twelve amps running over tracks of interwoven fabric. you can hear it purring in relief.

oh carpet. oh felinity. soft and fluffy like a freshly laundered comforter.

i can sleep on for years.

someone grab a piece of steel and bruise my legs, my calves, my hamstrings. my waist. i like them pulled and tender. like veal, but with voluntary abuse.

then i can stretch out. feel the throbbing, pulsating stabs. i’ll drift off to sleep, or pass out from the pain, and hopefully never wake up again.