Phoebe
uses the body while it is asleep
whispering promises she fears it will
not keep to minacious strangers who creep
in basement dreams. Offers tiniest pills.
Barters its screams for collectible dolls,
antique velvet bear who survived shipwreck
without its young miss who said prayers, lolled
in waves which gave another rotting speck
to dead ocean floor. Scavengers in plaid
always want more than the embodied
are able to give. Is it even bad
to want to live, to climb on a favored knee
if it necessitates a throttled neck?
Tiniest hands are never circumspect.
Horror Sleaze Trash 