Drunktank judge his whimpers

What a growing up that yellow roof it never was was
it smirking fellow you hunchback boy known
firsthand a wandering from walls twelve feet and back.

The poor lizard that crawled up my nape snuck sly in my
brainstem counted algebra more sluggish than its own
twenty years its emotions all stymied all acquaintanceless.

That man roamed Canada who swam in the sweat of God’s hand
told a room of never once hungry athletes their brains all
tinied down by lame reckoning what not to do them doing it and

his neighbors they never were them growing into stammers
of people or near it their spurts a harmony or might we
call it an industry for how therefore grew up that good doctor.

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~ by Jeremy on May 8, 2012.

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