taking off her warm  
stockings i  painting    the      gypsy       standing       in the       shadows  in her  *******   kissing her  hard                 on parted lips              while she takes drugs,   standing w/ her  
finger on her  tongue popping a   pill              made of                    plastic;               opposite her he     lived  at         midnight     & waves  free     the           revolution  at  table lit         w/ dim  light              discussing  ****-like but            older  ideologies         in the  field  the English   sand   devils  
wrong                the  ****   goddesses   who are angels laying                
                              sleeping      where she   stood  
                 founding the   first          unified     state,  bringing  her little sister to meet  the                       quantum stranger                       who only    exists to leave  burning the                                   computerized   winebibber grandmothers;
   speaking up loudl          y       in the bar                    bare breasted &  dying   still i n her garters  
her kids writing                      obscene odes                                 on the  city walls  
her push-up bra in                               flames in  the  land of the  queens;  
an bbbbbbbbbbbbb           angelic tree growing              her  thin limbs
         swaying       on the   hill, the smell of her   ****** in my   nose;   Paris Jack swinging  
ice-dating wearing       the corporate   look in the  bathroom  
on his knees ****   ing                  darkness   like a friend / a friend  in public,  the invisible   guns  are  cute,        hey,  hey,   watch   me dreaming  & u might            g et  lucky &  get  pregnant   too;
ur finger wearing a  rock                as  wide  as a political party  
raising   purple   gods      in their drag get-ups       up           in the temple where  Mary's   dog  is               bigger than  Lou's; commanded to    sit  ; course   skinny girls cut in half               in early   ****   sounds like an Indian   Denisovan ritual        /        I can smell her v        agina on my fingers          , their   car is a     a  muse; mother            drunk in   leather mask      heading                               north           to bring the suffragettes   food;  honey, as it   turns  out the    drunken    witches        ball is broadcast in   color  
&                                          stays on long enough        to  change  to HD