Poem-A-Day: Day 369

Fecallatio

The disconnect of damnation
standing knee deep in ilk
no more unctuous than the diarrheic.
Shit smeared hands slapping
at skin, slipping off skin
leaving the lasting streak reminders.
The raw submissive hatred
gone savage, relinquishing blasts of sly
fecal smatterings of drastic fight.
She said she said. see saw shit,
and all over, it seems all over shot
through the sea stroke saviors shilling.
Somebody swallowed the sick filth,
the feltch left over from the last
nights spent dining out at the hearts top.