Hallucinate Good People

Will the reader let me fumigate
his lungs full of poetry from the syrup
made by leering cells
of fat in the toilet to trick and make abrupt
the rear of the matter?
The reader will
taste tequila in the air
then shy into the outside
counting the bars in the prison
as if one was the fullest number.
Pregnant by steak with steak’s babe
loosen all hope and abandon all stomachs.

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~ by Jeremy on November 4, 2008.

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