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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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