They’re Good

She spits through hollowed unfolded fangs
Spritzing venom drawn from intrinsic sacs
Located behind her intoxicated garnet eyes

Releasing a form of raison d’etre
Discolored by phlegmy codes,
Her cringe worthy attempts at humor

Temporally inclined towards grown tumors
From slightly disguised phlegmatic modes,
She writhed in responding nonsensical skelter.

Disparaging quests in a fornication in forgotten ties
Forcibly enhanced to invalidate the beliefs that she lacked,
During days in estranged delusions where bells once rang.



Originally repudiated advances
Swerved and sharply turned
Into opposed compositional
Collaborative contrivances
Consequentially followed after
Four walls inched inward incrementally
Gaining momentum in steady surges
Of anecdotally incriminating processes
Of perceived occlusions of escape’s nonexistence.
Digits mouthed through curtain blinds;
Futility flailing in desperation
Directed at what was eventually determined
To be an illusory correspondent.

Situationally replicated sequences
Point in symmetrical directions
Of deluded fantasies.