An Ulcers Window In June

Candid lips taking humid sips,
From archway pipes descended,
In the foyer of the swine,
Of your lovers clutch,
She pulps out the peppered poison,
In optional milligram bursts,
From her chesty bags of cabbage,
Across your waning wasters tongue that,
Usually has nothing to¦
Piss intermittent slabs,
Of gut cockled discomfort,
Affordably replayed incongruous needs,
Aping culpability,
At the coffee houses stall,
Menorrhagia's pulse slips through an open door,

Man to man and man up man,
Your passing the silver that binds the meat,
Across a groin bridge,
That leaks out black piss,
Sinew placid but deltoid in rhythm,
Fingers stalk the duct for whet feathers,
Matted in the daylight snide,
Whilst the fingernail abrade,
Leaves BUPA in portions,
There's scope for direction depending,
On which way you're facing,
The old sun never ending,
The corset your lacing.
Menorrhagia's pulse slips through an open door,

© Copyright 2006 Leigh Cole

Also Published in Monkey Kettle Magazine Issue 4, 2006