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Mega-City One (Pre-load and Drop Neck)

September 2, 2013

onehundredandtwo

Our time together was a pogrom.
From the Russian.
But speaking as a gentile.
A gentle, supine boy.
With the makings of a drink problem.
And when we’d filled the pit.
You placed a Mauser to my eye.
Gentle lead from your disingenuous side.
Told me I didn’t love you.
Not really.
And blew me into it.

Josef never met.
A censor quite like you.
But if you do.
And you may still, yet.
I imagine you’d erase him, too.

I can still taste you.
On the inside of my cheek.
And in that little mark.
Left when you bit my bottom lip.
You won’t be saved, my curious lover.
By those deniable things you crave.
Your marriage and your offspring.
Honey, if you’d only let me explain.
Like cures like, never.
All existence is suffering.

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From → Poetry

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