Company shucks

The gin drawls: pour me slow, hold me
long, I am yours, that man is wrong.
The gin drawls: we are true, we are crossed
between the jowl you pinched, made off with.

The gin drawls: I am yours, brawling mine,
I warned that man of your catastrophe.
The gin drawls: I’ll drag you down in drags
long as the rags you mope in, lonelier.

The gin drawls: I made off with all your friends
and there in the murk they hush your name.
The gin drawls: my dictionary is one word
stowed in your brain and I low cacophony.

The gin drawls: take me, stranger, we’ll hang
strange together humming a eulogy for two.
The gin drawls: pour me slow, mope for me,
I am yours, I made off with every rag of you.

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~ by Jeremy on August 10, 2012.

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