Deep within the jungle of my semi-spherical
rubber electricity-sweating grin prison,
songs deciphered by amputated lips trained by
sticks, stones, and dying relatives.
The miserable frost encourages mutant feather-holders
to grasp the claws of one another,
oblivious to the plastic suffocating their own precious
paintings of themselves.
Hallucinations.
Collapsing balloon-lungs.
Conforming fishermen in heat.
Starving.