We called it practicing for girls when we would bluntdick one another
What I knew might put my hand in his pocket
search any clavicle naked as prom night
brilliant in the air as sails questioning my motives
stretching my hips towards my head to practice the suck have you ever thought
sadly in a blackout you made pornography
everything through hiccups
boys jog past your window thin as sunburnt
smiles
are going into your body short and frothy
down at the lip of the underground well want that smell of blood in my house, the blip
the seconds threaten
One bodybuilding magazine showed a man with his penis angled and skewing hard and strangely orange out of his posing speedo, and repression is a powerful cycle
Let me be glaring here embraced by many eyes on windows cool
pretty please pies
of wet cane and snowmelt anything
mending its miles
Thursday, November 12, 2009
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