What is this pale outline I drive

Love, I fuck like the pigs
swimming in our coal love,
the long dick that abuses
for moments
love on the bed I lay on.
Abuses, love animated
like the fireworks I
keep hidden for you listening
to every word, the iceberg
people smile standing on
palms up lying down
happy to die like I die
with my crooked face over yours.
The circuit my brain
dripped through its nostrils
sweet program you
is like I engineer machines
for money, kiddo kiddo,
my profession I’ll say
honest as drunks here patting
my back like tree trunks
you are faceless but you are
the back and front of my hand,
taking it, there where
we won’t speak about aloud,
oh my brain matter fries up
and simmers like sauce
dabbed from only your chin
thinking on roads my fingers
drive madly on so drunk too drunk,
the median heading to
sweet brain matter I excite
if I work hard like, maybe like
the one thing I do
to you done to me I do not
reek of in the morning.
An addict needs more than more—
you should know, know though
I have made you up before.


~ by Jeremy on April 23, 2011.

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