Goven the hoves
fleem pockeled filled gloves
grafted to crushed crums
slalled in deep coriander crust
enough for every returned gone giver
to given lost locks
lost metal locks
lost and rusted and shattered and cold
clocks that are
slotted
knotted and tree like
cornered and frusted
turse nunch
coral callouses formed
from fists made too harsh
from digging into them own
from nails cruising through skin and curling
cloasting out
through raw knockles
cunderned and between bone and out
murky and foggy raw
straw piles to sleep in
don't know home
cloy poudered prush
frush
crush me under it all
reduce me to dust
