Clipside of the pinkeye flight I'm not the percent you think survives I need sanctuary in the pages of this book Gestating with all the other rats Nurse said that my skin will need a graft I am of pockmarked shapes The vermin you need to loathe Now I'm lost last night I heard lepors flinch like birth defects it's musk was fecal in origin as the words dribbled off of its chin it said I'm lost I'm lost now I'm lost dolls wreck the minced meat of pupils cast in oblong arms length the hooks have been picking their scabs where wolves hide in the company of men it said I'm lost I'm lost now I'm lost are you peaking in the red perforated at the neck what of this mongrel architect a broken arm of sewers set past present and future tense clipside of the pinkeye fountain now I'm lost it's been said long time ago you'll be the first and last to know you'll never know