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Black Bees//Paradise City


It hits like a sour bomb hissing away drugstore whores
and streetlight mayhem
another persuasion for you to masturbate steadily over
with the spill of your hot fluids in amounts that marbleize
until the nectar coagulates and scars one inch over the
limit set in a shadow overcoat

Stiffened collars and spiked lips for the arousal and fear of encounter
will take back what you know and offer them so much less as
they open
their cupfuls and leak all they can gain but nothing
to lose

Made of boxes made of paper they fall under and the stars become their streetlight mayhem
hiss away the whores and run away with whatever will sell you next//
this time
you bought your last dime

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oXXXo

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