No You Step.

no you step no you
crush my appetite you make
my heart recite murmurs of incongruence
you are speak of the devil
you are the tongue of the wicked
shooting down the locals for the gun
of words is ulcers pulsating my
stomach/// a butter churn stuck with
saturated fat glopped and
pulse quickens when you speak
and step you step you crush me under
i roll away deterred
as man falters when he
determines worth, succeeds
when he is used to determine such.

Spunk.

celebrate what/////
push mommy push
the sedatives
the little white room spinning blur tops
and the cats outside searching
for garbage dinner deluxe
i get born
i get dead
i do no work, i get no baby
kicking at///my/// insides
we celebrate birth
yet when the reaper starts
paging us in the middle of our
sitcoms and golf games
we pretend we're too busy
and run for drive-thru windows
churches for the hungry
food for the spoiled
celebrate the moon, the mother
forget the little men
the little wars
and the little sins which
create compelling television.