The Boars Snout
His nose is bustled in my neck.
Hazy. Bigots always saying sorry,
While they're standing over the body.
Somehow, somebody's face is missing.
Tantra chain lock collars, unmasked dogs.
I can picture the minutes, feel the minutes,
Before his body hits the cement.
Billboards make the brainwaves sway.
Breathing out like a contaminated street vent.
Knock me to the ground, watch and wait,
Until the slime comes out. Abort the only flesh left.
I spy head against brickwork.
His smells conquered. Hands limp, freezing over.
Snot slides down into my mouth. You're not mine now.
Taken away.