Opprobrium at the toolshed

In sausage tongue hang the rag of isolation, I tried forever to warm the feathers of her reactions, A radical toe from some numberless thumb blood, As red as the great dead ocean of Russian pollution, She ignored me like the Dead sea, alive but motionless, My bright yellow piss falling out of me like a techno-sieve, Urged with vitamins sipping dreams from my alcoholic stream, The night before I missed her, her brown eyes, her tanned skin, Remember the periodic table, it will make life's eruptions stable, Die while you live, for living is far too dangerous, Lose love be tough, cry never, sether emotion, like a lost ocean.