how to how to

inside her

with exploding organs

that’ll splatter the ceiling

with offal and blood

though the walls need to be repainted anyways

for they peel from handprints

that remind one of ceaseless childhood

where endless days giggle to playful wind

and a sun on rollerskates down the bountiful road

where each work will be a masterpiece

of thoughtless freedom away from what

is brewing inside

which eventually will be me

pouring and pounding and pouncing

millions of worlds she will never know

but will one day burp out

like a swallow regurgitating food

to the young

with accidental indigestion

and embarrassed indiscretion

when someway

this night ends

and someway

the next day yawns

into an oblivion

forgetful of the universe

of yesterday

while still spreading out

to the invisible tomorrow