Choked Chamber Severe carvings wrinkle smooth stone. Bold chisel, carve masterpieces. Words fresh as new death. Stifled breath, pounded back, Into a body, choked in a chamber. No escape, oxygen tank Ripped from the ground. Invisible bells shrieking in a body Nonexistent in reality. Pulverized Words Punch these words to death. Treachery in meat globs. Balled pulp, knuckled knobs. Bulbs of bone, bulbous beneath skin. And skin, largest organ, Instrument of concealing, The internal blows. Until the knuckled flesh balls, Struck their target. Love-Pocks Lovely little pocks oozing, Sliced open, exposed In streams of mist Into the atmosphere. Inauguration of release: It may not always be pretty. It loves itself anyway Pressed Stones Press the stones that weigh me down to the very bottom. Let my eye rise with the waves Becoming one with I. Some hope, at least.