Again—again, swift friend
To our end, again…
We commune to the late dark night,
to suspender tunes, a fool’s distractions
made of bubbling mighty
Satisfaction
in silver streaks
forgetful of our lives’ brilliant signs
Not meek of Right,
Left to respite  & deign.

But that life style
with its surround sound slapping:
steel-hard flesh colliding whilst
a wolf’s eye inside widening to
**** full moons, moons
so pale, too soon to rise…

Again—again, we failing friends
Tribune to these piercing
screams,  shouts of only instincts,
inarticulate
again—just stiff, obtuse sticks
instructed by our wilderness’
Darkening

For not to feel or heavy think,
Its common sense,  so stuff it hard
lick and **** it to submission
until it’s gone—happy—endings:

dispensing wars at the Mission,
eagerness of eagles’ energies
Or in Xanax-shaped tears
melting memories from Rx,
Dine in beads of suffered sweat
Upon your forehead, a mark of X,

Naught to forget…

Again—again, we ravens,
crazed friends from paper cups
sup’ nesting cockholds
syringe-able suspensions’ luck
again—and somehow
through the groin’s gruff
and guile of drug-induced *****…

Again—again, commenced
Love-lost ***-lust
we forget to “be”

Us
again if only friends amok
our eyes off to the shadows, flee
on walls written on bedroom showers
greasy with gristle
and regretful towers
powerful stink whilst spits
illusions...

Again—again, tell that friend
Without refusing
us again, our spinning life
begin again—we clones commune
to the late late nights
numbing the looming doom
our wool’s worth & boon.
Libra scales and afterlife
Oh the tithes which bite

To the Lateness of darkest Night.