Christ Compels you

They explode and i wheeze and vomit
my belly expands and sick mixes with the blood in my eyes
hungry it climbs up and smells of floor polish
my teeth clatter to the floor, hooked ended and coated in yellow
the wheelchair across the road skates by me, passenger on the floor
writhing and twisting they pierce me with shrieks of manic rage
the radio excretes snow, and foam gushes from the television set
i begin to float and stiffen i tumble to the floor
i convulse and blood flows up and out of me
feet turn into biro pens bound together with fiishing wires
horses moan with orgasmic pleasure as they fall down the stairs
I wish they'd stop.
I hope they stop.
The dinnerbell rings at half past five.
Everyone climbs into their cars and troops towards ayrs rock,
boats fill the seas and everyone marches foward
towards, on board my eyebrows lactate and i burp out ringtones like a digital canary
greedy bastard children munch on the steel and rust and poop out coins
ayrs rock swells and blemishes, a dalmation of rock
drawn in, we thin out and i push through the squelsch of the rock, cottage cheese.
in the middle now,
it booms and echoes and the sound eats me.
i wish they'd stop.