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the violence of absence,

dealing out days

from the bottom of the deck 

- immediate strangers.

in the lowly pit 

of my mantle, i was 

clear and rested in thought

in your presence.

 

sinuously always louding

me, the Kingdom of the Bed.

the legs you sported

- outrageous fortune.

 

i could tape you

to moonlight, watch

me down here in possession

of no more answers.

 

a bigger slight,

the real gotcha-gotcha:

i really thought you knew 

the difference

between heat and fire.

you will never see

the pity of my trust.

do you know wave?

wave is coming.

Shlong

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