The cold penny brings the word disc closer
Then moon's penance, all bunk and no blank
The hill's oily nose-ring patrols; scarlet
Bloodsuckers stash the lighters as Braxton
Bent the tree lime. As night comes, it is clear
You want contact but only when contact without
Contact. And my headache is a craving-in
Get me a Battle Smurf or at least once and for all
Tell Her damnit where the yellow jackets hang
Bellow as beyond. Bed and bath throttled in rage
Later, sucking yawns, waiting for the Barbies
To return the fairy scent of slave-owning love
The piss of yanked night in striated rooms
Suggests will cannot wait up but waits for you
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