Stalk of a libido’s neck

Or: The darkening old white men toss each other in moonlight



Pestered neurochemicals. Fuck me in the arm nook,
my, they attack back at the poor mouth never had
a heavy more in it never spoke but geeking jokes.
Let us speak of the body, the one we share unless
dogs sit upright or kinky insects do on Neruda
leading the night away to day speaking neurotic.
Tiny fat grasshoppers write like they’ve gained
our respect easily tossed and much easier lost.
Take me drunk, I’m home, Billy dead dead dead you.
What is the body’s politic but cells with cheeks
you can just fry about the oil jumping its victims
yelling the moronic pores don’t stand for much.
Boy, they told about all of this in Australia,
featured fat sides of the head blood jumps onto
the hairless and easy homosexuals spit a bit over.



~ by Jeremy on June 2, 2012.

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