quinta-feira, 27 de novembro de 2025

Cleaning the goat off my hands

 We go to clean ourselves in the bathroom
The tap spills a goat that squirms and squeals
as it hits the blinding white porcelain
merging with plural goats and sliding

The metallic ring the echo hello and goodbye
As the plural goat flows electrically over it
down into the dark dirty drain the forever cavity
Carried away by itself in volume hopeless

but the goat doesn't look back in lament
It is not dependent on some preview to darkness
It only bleets over porcelain and confused speed
The phantasmagoria inside the drain growing

The goat's strange rectangular pupils expand
Yet the goat's response is lackadaisical
the light pouring in from the above opening
Lighting up the morbid infestations

The accumulated scum embedded with parasitic eggs
Slightly bulging and twitching struggling to crack
The further down the goat falls the more complex the rot
Food chain of overly taloned and toothed scavengers and predators




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