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 Feb 2019 swaggmaster
ana laag
6.25%
 Feb 2019 swaggmaster
ana laag
You spit a venom,
Which warp her mind.
Drain her worth,
And left her in confusion.
You trapped her soul.
And break her wings.
Just so you can fly.
what happened
last night

it was like
tomato soup
boiling and
spilling over
the edges

catching everything
on fire
growing in height
spreading in width

it was all the rage

a pressure
cooker
unhinged
coming to life

a room
ravaged and
torn to pieces

an electric
heart
broken
circuits
shattered
strands of
wire

shreds of
a broken soul
bleeding
onto paper

they say
satan was the
most beautiful angel

the favored one

broken when
rejected by his
truest love

what happened
last night

I saw the
shape of
god’s back

straight and
stiff
I don't know how many bottles of beer
I have consumed while waiting for things
to get better
I dont know how much wine and whisky
and beer
mostly beer
I have consumed after
splits with women-
waiting for the phone to ring
waiting for the sound of footsteps,
and the phone to ring
waiting for the sounds of footsteps,
and the phone never rings
until much later
and the footsteps never arrive
until much later
when my stomach is coming up
out of my mouth
they arrive as fresh as spring flowers:
"what the hell have you done to yourself?
it will be 3 days before you can **** me!"

the female is durable
she lives seven and one half years longer
than the male, and she drinks very little beer
because she knows its bad for the figure.

while we are going mad
they are out
dancing and laughing
with horney cowboys.

well, there's beer
sacks and sacks of empty beer bottles
and when you pick one up
the bottle fall through the wet bottom
of the paper sack
rolling
clanking
spilling gray wet ash
and stale beer,
or the sacks fall over at 4 a.m.
in the morning
making the only sound in your life.

beer
rivers and seas of beer
the radio singing love songs
as the phone remains silent
and the walls stand
straight up and down
and beer is all there is.
the flesh covers the bone
and they put a mind
in there and
sometimes a soul,
and the women break
vases against the walls
and the men drink too
much
and nobody finds the
one
but keep
looking
crawling in and out
of beds.
flesh covers
the bone and the
flesh searches
for more than
flesh.

there's no chance
at all:
we are all trapped
by a singular
fate.

nobody ever finds
the one.

the city dumps fill
the junkyards fill
the madhouses fill
the hospitals fill
the graveyards fill

nothing else
fills.
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