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PK Wakefield
Poems
Oct 2013
Untitled
speak me young
the ***, your mouth
in clovers hot
transcending bond of mortal rot
('tsstupid your
the mouth
and swollowed
tighly
throat )
lift, cleaving
petals of neatest night
carry to heaven(oh and
YES
when your hands
quickly
wig my
burning ****** )the( i'm
fist the
kitty
yer
smell very erectly ) coffin
'o mundane plight
( i'll push between yer stocks
a
*****
like
they
'llpush
a
*****
'tween the dirt
where yer'll sleepin'
lay )
Written by
PK Wakefield
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