It's simply in timing it.

I

I’m thinking shitty things, ill-fitting shrill things, things I think I’ll dismiss if I insist in thinking “This isn’t right!”, still I think “Kill him, kill him, his shirt is insipid! Slit his thighs, his wrists, his lips, his lids! Slit him ‘til his spirit is piss!”, I fight this dirty, glib ill will, still, I’m thinking “Will I slip? If I slip, will I kill smiling, grinning, liking it slightly?”




II

First finding I’m living with HIV, it’s silly, thinking “I’m dying! I, victim!” Sickly, dizzy, high in pills ‘til, inspiringly, I inflict HIV willingly in dining grill I stint in nightly, rightly victimizing girls, mixing chill piss in spicy chili, shit bits in sizzling sisig, thick spit in icy drinks ‘til midnight, ‘til, tiring, I sit in high spirits, ticklishly giggling, priding in illicit thrills, in kicking, in fighting HIV, in living!




III

Limbs limp, shitting in fits, pissing pink, his sins in vivid tints - bright, shining - I, crying, pity him, dying.




IIII

It's simply this: I insist in trimming his girth, finding it right, finding it fitting. Think: him sitting, pissing. Inspiring, isn't it?




IIIII

If I find him, I'll hit his shin with dirty piping. I'll kick his chin, split his lips, nick his lids with pins. I'll bind his limbs tight, strip him, inchingly skin him, dripping wicks blinding him in bits, his crying rising, insisting I simply kill him icily, finish him kindly, still his stinking, sinning, victimising spirit! Itchingly inspiring. Still, I'll dismiss his wish. I'll still skin him nightly, in strips, him still living, kicking blindly, still crying, 'til I'm grinning, in giggling fits, brimming with his spirit's light, 'til I think it's swimmingly right. It's in timing it. It's simply in timing it.