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Wednesday, 1 February 2012

RC Miller-


I tank my breast implant boss. Goatherd-shared bouncy-eyed sword in gong with gigantic melancholies and conk emission. Why my tomb pulls away is the yellows' munch.

Her father's skeleton has been dead anywhere from three to eight years. False heart, false frost, unatonable nudity. The has-been's hospitalized in a skeleton of a man found in his daughter's just made public facility. I'm over how alive I sound.

Yellow touch is bonking me out of all ends. Well played, that got me laid last night with a black snatch. Speechless the darkness.

RC Miller lives in Metuchen, New Jersey. He is author of the chapbooks Windex We Can (Wheelchair Party), A Large Retailer (Ronin Press), GORE (Calliope Nerve Media), and blogs at

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