underground poets share hired shed with fisting porn.
this
is
my
realisation
and
my
concern
but
not been writing easy this year anyway
and
i know
there’s
better
porn
out there than that.
not a school night and the Matrix is on soon
and
a
new
bottle
of Jameson waits in
the
smashed glass kitchen.
clearly i'll drink and watch
K Reeves
the
slab of meat
the
slab of meat
douggie
his
way thru his lines again
and
see the green rain fall.
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