“Uninspired by the freakshow”

There lie friends
who were rocked for fucking?
Yes, for fucking, for a lack
of deeper friends than these
pinheaded enemies. What story
then short can imbibe
enough alcohol for a manyfooted tribe?
More questions arise when these
short but upsized diseased
children walk up curled trees
to answers held by men and women fucking.
Monoliths still all about
this island at noon without sound.
Winter in June and rush
the black feet of a whore still yet
unsung for her virtue, her womb still wet.


~ by Jeremy on May 1, 2010.

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