Mare after tonic

On my altar lies my dollar’s
voice that shakes my head
inside and out, all about,
begging for its schizophrenic
pimps—on the Goodyear Blimp—
where the priestcraft heaves
its pastoral dumps over, over,
dumps it all and vows to leave—
for the umpteenth…

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~ by Jeremy on November 28, 2012.

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