The parody of struggle in which a chiseled black man carries a white woman's entire weight on his bare thighs while she coils around him helplessly he traverses their bloodless stage, and she comes across too, in that position, the parody needs more velvet and original ideas and gin and liars and what can willful sin cure what more can willful sin cure
later I witness myself tossing crystals into the blades of a ceiling fan to fade out into the wheels of justice like today I was so sexy as the understudy for that stray mafia mistress if I'd been a little less yellow the doors may have flung open like your warrior plus the doped up cobra always ready to appear when the basic bling gets into a stupor feels his mother appear in loose character and dial a rotary for some other man she loved
Men are never white blackbirds™
And what would our favorite men have done without a common enemy in themselves? Lived too long like chump buddhas dumping their most suitable myths into the silence as the bodies of special crimes float on good timing—the enemy gave them the sincerity of slaves / again we imagine their bodies pressed against ours like scars and this is comfort and we call the press just as sorrow begets a nuance of euphoria and the lights flash as drums dirty Sun coming home
How did it feel to be away so long?