pin prick applesauce

when i have the bends it’s like i’m writing something
made of pin prick applesauce
and all the unsent valentines of my desperate youth
like a plume of forbidden.
mac and cheese.

the jackal in my hornet is a crude bonnet
batting a bee sting from a balloon.
the kind of absolom that sleeps in your revolt
with one I open to be clever
with This verse.

4th wall graffiti is a dream out loud
when you type your prayers
in mist.
QED