1. Nigh night my speech impediment, perhaps, bleeds out from my crooked teeth stained with love((lessness)) “& what do ye ((cherubs in ribcage)) feel,” as the circus tonight Bombinates & pitter patters like cotton candy shakes? sugarhighlover? “naught,” they croon, or, perhaps, i am stuttering the near night heeding ‘gainst the crook of my shoulder her shoulder which i stand up high