Something is rotting inside me.
Nauseatingly sweet release.

I cross the street, looking around.
Safety has a price.

Banana condom taste test.
Red light’s gone out.

Nervous tic motion
Of the head to the left.

Right pinky twitching
Disturbing me during corpse pose.

Seaweed sewing my eyes shut.
Garnets placed over them.

My last words are something
About vultures going extinct.

My first words after that
Are something about a flat circle.

A crossing guard got hit yesterday.
And children ask about black eyes.