Trench mouth

Fuck you! I peal the orange

And you do not know how

With one hand amid ships

above sandy clure

That does not ammount to


Even the spurs of red riders

Do not shaft drivers make

Along with the rule

Upon which we spoke

And spike

Your cunt on the

Feasibility study

about the right and writer

And not the soul food

we live on and quest.

It is nor right it is not

Wrong, to ring the bell pull

And ask for a night’s quiet sleep

away from the hands pulling at my

shaft, like Alice they weary for more dew-dropped

Weddings and such like you who do

it well and do not see it well but do

Begin in the area of it too.



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