Hes the joker laughing,
King of days, my animal.
The moons still in his hair,
No chains to loosen when he lives on
His feet, but earns with my hands.
Blowing me kisses,
Tugging at my dunce cap whilst I sit
In the corner, bed in the wet.
The darks his bones
Plea with any name, hell answer to it.
I write in my lovers gut-end
Among the rank.
Happy mud-hooked face.
I am Duke of nothing
By Hellions side.














Comments
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beastie in france
--
"If the English language made any sense, a catastrophe would be an apostrophe with fur."
--
beastie in france
--
something about a nightmare
No chains to loosen when he lives on
His feet, but earns with my hands.
part
--
something about a nightmare
--
"If the English language made any sense, a catastrophe would be an apostrophe with fur."
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