A homosexual had my
trucked towed last night because I
stole a bag of "popcorn" from him
(and also the wife is never pregnant)
He say, "Hey, bud, I think you should come back here,"
so I leaves, I runs out the door and he tell me,
"Don't ever come back here bud,"
so I don't know what I do.
Perhaps I will sever
his goatee, leaving
only his bloody jawbone.
I will then put it in a
jar next to the ninth flag by
my mantelpiece
while all the buildings
outside burn down,
and tell him to smile for me,
make a coat out of his skin.
It's disgraceful
It's always me taking,
with my crumby punctuation,
the p**s and the blood to
the factories while the brutes
tattoo their names and loves
to great sidewalk biceps
Like rainbows that harness
the earth
so dense
and hot
and spindling.
Hold on
I hear the mules calling me.
I must go to them and
lead them away from here.
Somewhere closer to death,
to truth.
Where's the Benadryl?
Where's the sudafed?
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