Tuesday, July 23, 2013

from san diego to bunker hill

i do not need to see any more mayonnaise enemas
for the rest of my lifetime; put a grip on this knob
and lay a brodie for me, whisper, "remember me"

cosplay a shit sandwich, hereby to bear your buns
amply with egg & oil; peel out of the place, leave
it: "so you're a fugivitve from the laughing house"

heed the sun-spoiled blistering of white puss-like
that becomes your body, for to pretend too real is
it: "i don't care what you do to me, just do it fast"

a bunch of cops, they'll eat you whilst patrolling;
writhe bursting in your mask, there a second skin
in dirt: "yeah, i remember you from somewhere"

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