what a rush
just after putting down a poem
saying "done"
there's been this tension
now release
and a new confusion
where once was peace
having participated in the great undoing
of all
into the chaos of structure
"it's got a shape"
"I made it"
run away from the place of writing
shove cold chocolate banana into my mouth
a sweet dick pacifier
reword reward
blake equated
writing to shiting of course I tell my friends to read it
a celestial shart spread it around
wet slapped on the world intellectual dysntry
a filthy high five smell my finger
with god
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