Spasmin Body Searchin for Soul

Stomach pulled, penile point, nose suckin' air, skull emptier than a gas tank in a rust heap pile up spider pickin rust chips lookin for place to squat ina dark heat. Body shell flesh grippin bones, me, lookin fer to find mah soul. No kiss, kiss, face shell ta face shell. Got nuff Tongue wag automatic, lingual virus, parasite packin mouthful. Course, Mr. Hymen coulda squeezed his tie to point his blue lips belch. Ainy wail, knot for gettin soul, throw in biologic evolution, friend of mine asked me: Which came first, the suck or the squirt? Pulsin in primordial soup