Skirmish
Harassed and hard
done by. You think
it's tough on you. Spare
a thought for us.
Our only want please
to please you
enough. Son, lover, father,
motherfucker, we wear
your teats out coats of
wisdom, war
and death. These truths
fitting yet yet i
love it when you
brush the lint off
my shoulder sweep
aside the breath. I make
a buck out on
the open, scope him
in his wake. He shifts the shakes and stakes
his burden violent windchange
dares his chance
to take. But would
i cannot shoot
to bear. There's time
left still to be confused.
Leave us a little
room to fill,
and we will.
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