it must be wednesday

the house is all mine tonight, unless

you count baxter, max, deaf isis and

blind gordon. i poke gordon to make

sure he’s alive. i don’t count what’s

crawling in the walls. i let patti smith

sit in my favorite chair while i lay

on the floor watching her lips drool

poetry. i’ve always wanted to get

deeper and higher. get closer to a

holier mountain top. strip my brain

naked. be mother nature’s seed,

bastard son of a virgin. make

everything upside down right side

up. i might have chickens eat only

white meat of men. no one is last,

no one is first to his grave. i lick

up her spit, smoke my cigarette,

blow smoke up her ass. another

night weeping tears of laughter. a

jolly violin drowns out anyone knocking.

my well is boiling. for no good reason

my hard-on wants attention. it’s like

that when the house is all mine.

 

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