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Whiskey Waves

I have to let you know that I'm not going to go though with this rambling madness spewing out my

low nose as a putrid missile that would crack my pavement centered on my baseline.

Think in wine bubbles as they act funny as the whiskey wave perforates the steel grains on the

industries cigar ember.

Ground it dusty, left it out in the wetness of dark gray suburbs somewhere in spoiled rednoteville.

Hearken to this vision of peculiar dots on this flickering window, I will not tell you what it means until

you make me, over my broken, shattered and quivering body.

Push your will though me till you hate yourself then let go and fall back down into the irradiated bog

splashing with healing rabbits.

Clots and clots of lots and lots of thoughts pour though my brain like blood rushing though a

ruptured gas leak in downtown hell.

Spelling something with this body that says "breathing" is all I can do to you.

The joint smokes cracks in walls upturning, slowly rising while the stones are falling down around.
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