Selected poems washed out to the ocean where they sink like ships between the tall girls hips. Youth have hope but just give them enough rope and they'll hang themselves from wedding bells. Cops are in the bleachers cursing out screeches, building a cage for the kids crusade, the streets confess they looked up every dress and seen the face of god and she said get blessed.
You and me we got a disease, we're sicker than the sea, holy he, christ cross (carpet?) drowning the dust bin, history repeats through the sweaty sheets. Selected poems washed out to the ocean where they sink like ships between tall girls hips, the youth are ghosts just give them enough rope and they'll hang themselves from wedding bells.
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