My tongue rolls out
Onto the floor
Freshly amputated
From the red couch's door

And like a mattress-made raft
It startin' to drift and stray
Into the sea's red-heaving sway

It's time to switch off the placenta
And be torn from these womb walls
As this room falls
Into a new nightmare.
Fitting way too tightly,
It's more than I can bear.

And Lo!
I am cloudy essence
Slow leaking
From a swaddle of blankets.

Scanned image of crumpled page

Steve ‘JC the Voyeur’ (Western Australia)

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