had a solitary confinement.
Down’s syndrome frightens the catfish.
The bottom dwelling
body double, wants a compensation
for jumping up to your lips.
Not impressed, in vitro
the black moon
heaps a silver spoon in your mouth.
The body preys on your soul.
Are you ready to take a dip
in the smoke coming out of the tunnel?
The hard boiled tale
of intrauterine device, seals the
fear of life. there was no birth, no death.