cocks o’ the walls mill about,
stroking one and all,
ejaculate like gossamer in the cobblestone,
spun a selfish web.
i stroke alone,
thanks;
but all streets save theirs are in
disrepair.
so, to hell,
i’ll stay put.
Jesus lifted his last restraint at the
End of the century,
And I couldn’t begin to tell you what he
Saw in her anyway.
She threw her head back,
She threw her head back,
And that beauty spilled out
Across the highway
Like a glittering trail of venom and diamonds.
Coming down off the mountain of nails
Designed to keep him in ecstacy,
And I couldn’t [...]
i stink of the second-hand
impressions i’ve given.
i’ve wallowed in
vicarious caprice, and
come up dirtier in spots,
cleaner in others,
than i in reality
am.
uncork the “fuck you” and
drink.
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