#Art

As I lay dying suffocated by a mortal night, rotten, desecrated life of wonderful eyebrows, I dare to think of fish. 

Blop blop, godly fish. 

Cascading like rainbows 

or trouts 

or whatever 

from this insufferable melancholy 

pouring 

through this stream of tears 

or oil 

or Tang 

or whatever really

As I lay dying, the woman with the dog's eyes tries to bite my odyssean cock.

Where are you going blop blop 

you godly fish you

whistling like a little bird?