Apocalyptic poems, posted every m-f.


some say it came from mexico; or in from the ocean
it might come as punishment

they’re tiny, thin as thumbtacks
short like grains of rice
they eat what you eat, tiny holes carved through the skin
of your tongue

you can squeeze them free, spit them out
but more will grow
they will interfere with your salivary gland,
your mouth dry and wriggling

it is disgusting.

when the tongueworm problem yields no solutions,
in that future age of no solutions,
most of the infected simply cut out their tongues;
this will become the new sanity.

the sad eccentric will refuse,
spitting blood every morning as they lacerate their tongue with
hardly sterile knives,
pushing more of these things into the world; out of their mouths

and everything they eat will hurt.

the emperor of san diego, he lives this way
his steel stained with blood
his bathroom floor littered with red rice

he feasts on peppercorn and pressed paneer,
habanero soup,
imported things –
says he didn’t know what food was before the worms came

ecstatic, unrepentant


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