switch and lever

minded my time to foil dying nights
sad and runny my eggs
aren’t funny
and a sausage link hit me bet
ween the eyes when it fell from a low
fly in a patchy sky-die was tumbling
in from another word split from another time
nobody’s gon’ believe your horseapples
and you loathe with nothing to gloat about

poop poor pout pine pacing passers by
mediocritize your worth
and your f*ckin oddities multiply,
breathe and fly. Quickjest
draw and widows make
a pistol pulled in his father’s wake
trash only looks like trash until in it, slip

to die for a lie that i do not
lie for sense of anything bigger
then
anything smaller
than I could ever
hope for my cell for myself
and I
know rage
sacred and would eye this second
would I if I could,

i don’t care
that’s fine

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About hughmanfarm


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