the hi-fi plays solace to the
granular lobby upon the television screen;
as it flickers from camera angle to camera angle
(tech step moving company, breaking down to a
                                        white beat)
and i vomit

as a panorama of   ******* spasms
discharge throughout my entire skeleton  
and my pulse beats lightly, kilometres
below a curtain of bloated flesh

tonguing lady lucky's aluminum lips, i'm
pickled in sea of apricot floral: meteor bursts
searing behind goo-goo eyes

and i vomit

unwanted sentence structure, that gets
caught between the chesterfield and my square saturn venus