she's got the liquor squirts and everything hurts,
she sucks up the mud from
sterile water mixed with dirt
she hikes up her skirt then ties a ribbon which is
really a tourniquet to the only place left to get
a hit.
diet coke nose wearing pepsi cola clothes
slurring his speech in each direction this
tepid, cold wind blows
covering a face with panty hose
then robbing a bank in order
to put the currency in his
body.
eating cold soup on a string
looking like an onion ring
dream
nothing nourishing about these
catastrophes
it all simply vaguely stinks-
no need for trophies when all you're doing
is losing
faith at godspeed,
waking up with the shimmy
shakes to the reality
of a fake dream.
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