It’s been some hurting time: I lost it in a dial of fountain garbage youth — catfish mouth hooks and I never saw you sorry inside
Boreas is colored freezer pain! I haven’t had a hand job or pie Since the government gave me opportunity or more chances than churches where Jesus hangs on solemn walls while
flesh bags cry and pray for all their sins in a covered wagon somewhere in the 1950s black and white television. Gee I never knew ancient ones wore makeup and butterfly Lips like a hungry flower in a whore field. The sky gave me her scars like purple vaginas missing periods for months.
And Billy went to the store to pick up a jar of fat pickles. She never reached behind the curtain but I had my dummy and a fist beneath his cheap shirt making all the moves of a failed life.