oh what the hell

can be gained

way up here without

encouragement or reward

for the headaches

and time passing

management

collapsing lips foaming

over olive complexion

so  when an evil

spirit comes choke

it fruitless 

burn it's roots

and mark the skin

like some would

do whisper "restore us"

with its ashes

pineapple is the perfect sculpture

and when merged with a stick

and juice flows

or shackling wrists

dripping towards the bend

the scent for days

months

decay   not really

a slow dry not

rotting but shrinking

grasping

to the wood

or turning the arm blue

and we'll talk 

about onions 

another day

the raiders swarmed

it   battle scared

black    scrapings of gray

splatterings of jelly

so many asses

slightly differing

on delivery

nothing subtle in our denial

of the number one offender

we run flashing

in snapping out

throwing nuclear punches

never imagining a beaten down hub