Numbers

Spill my numbers.
Melt my face.
I'm talking to the cereal.
I'm swimming in the splash
Of epileptic wonder,
Echo-cave slug trails.

Make me an offer.
Push me past the docks.
I long to be subservient.
I'm singing through the mouth
Of a cherry blossom trash can,
Blissfully repugnant.


                                                    © Dull Lead 2013