Psychic aren’t you reader

I have found a dollar in my mouth.
It spoke and speaks of dollars.
Young muscle would so the shriek.
My brain tells a riddle
no old homosexual would rotting
like simple food should but will do:
cells are the miniature head,
language is English which is ignorant
as the blaming glimpse of God
that would reduce an orgasm to gold.
Remember everything seen is hate.
The numb carry a pinky gait.
Hey, borrower, what’ll you do tomorrow?
I am delusional, yes, down the streak
of humping animals two legged
that rummage in their words
to think their neuroses are a virus.
They swallow goblets whole they wonder.
It gives one piece, takes a few.
I must shriek when the sun comes
or else I am similar to dumb shades.
Idolise what a monkey does shitting.
Dressed in guilt meanwhile I tell
the too fat ancient pederast blinks.


~ by Jeremy on June 21, 2011.

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