Friday, February 11, 2011

Do Not Trade

They say you wouldn't want to trade
But what is this?
Anxious folds into waiting
Smiling through it all
A fucking optimist
lubricated with realism
and stuck up the ass of a sarcastic mother fucker

For the rest of my beautiful life
What is this?
Scraps of paper single words
Jangling musical notes
Dripping over my tits
into my cunt
with a hum and an eyedropper full of sting

Arrows of ephemera

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