patrick wakefield · Oct 26, 2010
i was is my hands

i was is my hands drugs)!
         evaporating splendorous
      sugar canes
                            the ruby of muscled
hell
             and discharge of sinuous
      marvels

                when the fat skinny
is in vulnerable propagation
       a cloud
                       gilded
    and spake "
                             you are sweat and pain and tenuous ,
  meet thy shall i when thous tedious crumb
        is spent human shell by the ground
          resting in loose solid soil
            bath and"
                                             thus
      rattled the increment of
                                                   lovely      and kind

         death      whom
                                              i       argue
          upon daily
                                    and

                                                      make

in the extremity of my ladies passionate jib
          my current cells
              speak loudly the name
                                                     of life
             in her vambrace
                                           of muddled pink
intoxication. my ex cellent fauld

 
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