Deceased & Desist Poem by Dedrick Estiltaph

eye...
wouldn't you're like
to grip him's optic nerve m'
rip snort -tort- shell-is from
is cradle?
use as chewing gum
his perwhiffeal judgement
and shove it up on threw his retna' hole?

upon thus statement as such,
his nerve bends -
reaching backgammaround
it settles on menonesuch.
I,
yes true,
am subject now
of nye-dust, spotlight scrutiny.

has my bealeauged routine
used me own constitution
as target practice?
these warbled methods shot
paper holes through me
cardboard heart?

refract.

I have 10 degrees, who
land on black-or-white, intermittens;
two degrees, which C
naw pinwheels
spinning me morals round.
an alphabet of lairs
spiderweb'd & cow shat
stinkin' to nye-heaven like neon death.

his, not stopped to look.
a spare hand nah chooking his iris
out.

in e' land
hopped up on corn nuts & peptobismal,
me thinks I'm seeing clear.