encounter w/ word processor

the devil better not touch the devil
the body represents itself
so frightened that lust
comes rushing gushing from
taffy pulling center
dream around a mote
stalking the borders
are really just strands
jump ropes really
I place my bets
tenderly and hesitant
possibilty with wet eyes
child and parent both towards
flooded lord of scrunched up knuckles
which look like angry babies
hold me\stuff me like a turkey
crawl inside and paint my caves
things I could never see
suck me like a space vacumme
until my bones are clean
by skin flaps around
gets you thinking about what you want
while with completly different eyes
you watch your thoughts from afar
and wait with a mop
to vomit the horns
and the tails
the carefully painted nails
be sure and sort
the eggs from the seeds

you suddenly realize that all of your good times
were confined to just one night
and maybe just two hours
divided by an amnesia ocean
probably incomprehensible bliss
washed out on the electron dots and so lost
surrounded by a petrifying cold
where the flame turns blue and then lonely
invsible xrays exoliate
the moons are now as soft
as plowed loon