You make me wasted
know your doubt
feel the warmth
once
fuck the world
or
war
I'm still old enough to distinguish,
young enough to revile in it
bathe or bath in it
Let the warm bubble bathed water
run through the short stubble hair on my face and neck
down onto the long curly hair on my chest
protecting my heart...
Mad cherubs beat their plumped
feet against the top of the clouds
my clouds...
my air...
my fire... my land... my god...
You and I are the controlled substance.
sub stance, a dance...
the demon in my pants
I need a stiff drink
a cold shower
a mind blow
big yellow flower
If I were an artist, I'd paint it.
An orator I'd speak on it.
A fighter, fight it.
A lover, love it
But the butts have it and I lose
even before my kicks are laced
to race...
save face..
A hemorrhaging of ideas
so for now I'll whisper these letters
to myself and my
corduroy book...
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