Irezumi Doctor
Japanese kindness dissolves nine feet from the nine-tailed foxrunning on his shoulder
He is in the underground; he is in a strange place
he is feared
Milk hits the head of the hebi as he channels away from the coffeetable
the Mukade fades from his leg
His back scrapes on the Orient and bleeds in special shades
The Baku releases unwanted dreams
Nightmares flood his bliss; pigments in art lean over
and he suffers in self and photographs
Standing outside the drug store, two blocks from his cell
in the canescence of life, the universe, the foaming tip of the world
He understands snow-white; he understands the melanism at the end
speaking in a bald voice
He speaks to sheep; he speaks to the livid
he understands his own suffering and blossoms in it
he understands his own power because he is buried in it
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