Fragment of a treatise on…

The dope fiends are coming. They were born,
like you, not I, on a diet of fingers twitching.
A galvanism that. And more is coming.
From what I have read I have discerned,
for your especial pleasure, sir, a doctrine
unworldly things made and I smirked at deciphering.
And I will tell it simply.  A poorly read
man me, I stir my knees at your company.
If you haven’t noticed. I noticed approximately
sixteen-hundred and eighty-three women
doted on their own bodies poor though they were,
and said of the devil he counted nothing more
than their own counted gatherings. Lord him,
he wept, and the sky crooned, and water
was unmade and we breathed it while sinning.
Lord him, he was young when he grimaced
at a mathematic I sold him, and Lord him,
breaking honey at a lamplight while I young
me counted the walls folding within walls
upon walls discounting the very fact of walls…

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~ by Jeremy on June 10, 2012.

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