One-legged thought
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.