Traits of traivescent tissues
build upon her manners of splatter chain,
your triangles cannot hear you scream.
Claw at your rags,
hesitate on the formaldehyde
for seconds upon minettas—
play dead.
Sheebah makes her circuit,
edges—
slides you in
with razor blade marcaia
condensed upon her lips.
Partnered with groping lines of fog,
she straddles would-be well-being
with flawed zombie thighs.
She rescues a .45 from anal retention,
moves the barrel musically
between your gums and teeth—
its body feels cold and sloppy
against your tongue
as she pulls the trigger…
The Poetic Anatomy of a Creepy Darling 