pot calling the kettle black

he was jesse james, i was

billy the kid. our ponies

were strong, we road hard

through the night. baptized

our bones in waters of the

little brokenstraw. fucked

like there was no tomorrow.

celebrating our cocks and

balls as gifts from god. we

kissed the holy communion

on each other’s tongue.

swallowed each other’s wine.

naked angels with hard-on

pistols protected our spirit.

calamity jane never wanted

it raw. she could leave quinn

the eskimo cold. castrate lord

byron’s choirboys. sorry i

made her cunt itch but never

apoligize for me being whitman

and he being william blake.



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