A virgin looks up

Bore the barrel to his head.
Know it prays. Got to bow on solid
knees, the caps themselves of lime.
Heavy in the fist, instead unlike twine,
leveraged twine that breaks the line
which meets his thoughts to what
he drinks with. A brew of slime
falls like he does erect
for the audience clapping like pigs
in shit. That too, there under him,
a pool of it to meet his feet
about to curl for the first time.

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~ by Jeremy on December 20, 2010.

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