there's something wrong here.
curdled milk, melted butter,
skewered silence softly
whining
begging
pleading in a tongue you
don't understand.

there's something wrong here.
purloined insides of an apple,
water engorged on rust,
bad taste in the mouth.
negation echoing in your ear,
broken voices,
antithesis,
interference. 

and like that,
it all falls out of you,
the day all neatly
swallowed.
written thin and smash-kerplunk
it's all syrup
all three feet deep in
viscous viscous purple.
hollowed-core beating chords,
strumming,
all minor keys with broken strings
all ripely bruised, 
a sure-fire rope-around-the-neck-day
in the making.

scooped, plucked, eaten