Garish gonorea garters
A leg of lamb
Stewed in a pot
Slow cooking barons
Awaiting tight cheeks
Exploded in fancy
Nylon icebergs
Tipping their way
Through Donovan munchies
Wishing a way to hell
Through no fault of your own.
Wait till this rides up the line
A crinkle up a leg and elbow
Knees under the table
Needs bushing around
Hunted socks slithering
their way around fashion.
Wait till this lights up
a carried fancy for let down
Wheels waiting for someone to drive
Wheel whirring to yield
Nowhere in circles
and says I did it cuz of you
and I'm not a wheel like you
and I'm not you...
you wheel!
Figuring a broken wheel
With a broken wheel…
Crooked apes.
We all come from the factory
and wish to be driven...
The spoke tied in tongues
That have been buried
Beneath my desire to drive
What I cannot…
And the stiffness lies limp
Like a spaghetti noodle
Down my throat
Decomposed crickets.
We rally round the stiffness
And say we don’t see…
Nothing escapes the
Wonderment in your eyes
Blared through bushes
Stiff as a dog
Spayed and nude.
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