i have peat eyes.

i have peat eyes.
SEND US YOUR AMELIASPLOITATION THEORIES, POETRY, FICTION, COMICS, ART, AND OTHER
A girl he loves, his precious sun
Her eyes like petals, soft and bright
deciding who should wear the hats
of happiness and hardship
the damming
the un
dance
‘You’re beautiful!’ the half-eaten living man says, /
a stream of blood splattering the half-eaten dead /
man’s half-eaten face. He doesn’t even flinch.
at the end of the day
it comes down to a fist fight
JUST GOOD OLD-FASHIONED VANILLA-FLAVORED AMERICANA FOLKS
we bought it together
at a pawn shop on East Ohio Street
a bowery
where people don’t know much about violins
Her harness buckled over a Christmas sweater. Yorkie-size. Nice and warm.
Maybe she knows something about metaphors, survival, & opposites.