WINE AND GATES

If You Gas A Belch, You've Earned A Haunting?

pus as a poem
that and the mete of hath
isn't or dizzy ink, the can of home
in your eyes, the sighing of a knack

question to the same, in the language of myth
moment to moronic salted nothings
the stir of antipathy for a lip
in the curt way we smile, the bothering

gesture of assumed think of suggestion's device?
iota of cause, to collect on the arms of regain?
simplicity in the tone of voice we accept as an issue?
irony of stoic instinct for a liking substitute of sanity?

quit playing with yourself
ask the insight to deliver a shadow
where are we, the spoil of meet on the shelf?
when the care of seek is a politer known...

alcohol in your burden for worthing
staring at brief salts of the day of the bird
in the shared method we know to be, the guarantee
of a cool draught of power in the shine of a mirth

there's your answer?
where have the potato's been?
is boredom the all of terror?
of a certain kind of reason found only in the lean?

beauty winks at a dole, for you
why are you a kiss in the side, of collusion to keep
a hostile naïve if not gave a sedition of presence that is who
the hell gives a future to your wishes in the heat

pass over the now
when teeth know a rose by any name
as we consider the need of a mouth
this brine of used neglect is the same



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If You Gas A Belch, You`ve Earned A Haunting?

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