The bed is a wound; the bed is raspberry sauce on cake.
The bed is black forest cake; the flesh of the cake is
Moldy in the places Eric has eaten out of.
Eric has eaten very dark

Torn flesh out of the cake,
Excavated by his eyeball,
Held in his mouth like a breath
Full of petals of stale flesh.

The topping shimmers like a used surprise;
The raspberry sauce of new love
Is thick. The bed is heavy jelly on a wound;
is no ointment

is no lotion is no ointment
nauseous little fingers
piggle wiggles is no
don’t be scared it’s not moldy is no it’s really good