Ninety filthy days

The sponsor is my alien, it has one head.
Two eyes that look sometimes off,
odd as a crooked leg, its two residences.
It wiped three walls straight away,
a house turned apartment turned braindead.
It shakes a couple arms at me,
something upright leaning like a friend’s
forehead on yours, those eyes gone, gone.
Its look is all sheen.
It doesn’t like roads, it shivers there,
it forgot how young it is, one year old,
all like moaning walls of its first home,
thought a gay tongue was an automatic ode.


~ by Jeremy on August 3, 2011.

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