misAdventures of Workmonkey 3.0

Hey Roach

Stagnant, squat on pearl Corian.
Armor
wings, threaded eyes
beat the cracked porcelain.
no. satin peanut. no.
glass sea.
yes. Water flags the
storm. Scurry, bloated thought on
vinyl, slipping, a red hair
wrestling grease, fish spine of
year-old avocado, swoosh. Then,
darkness, always. There, needle
pokes the sky. Rain of world, but
now
Shavings of razor, swimming
everywhere, millions of sharp
worms, throb, pulse, crave. With
dead breath, and bit of turkey, time for
sleep.