On opening a computer
All the palaver I woulda had the whole poem written by
now were it not for the mediocrity of my muse that’s right woman you need to LIFT
YOUR GAME! Like whales says Polly Jean lift! PJ Harvey’s trying her best. You
you thankless jezebel bring me HIGH! Respond. But instead of answering a simple
direct question you raise dancing it’s been a while & I could sure do with
it. I am maybe & your blasé suggests I’m the twit & this is where it
gets muddy relationships a maze with a way in the confuddlement walls of
mirrors leading first slow & then accelerated to the abyss (apocalypse?)
& then out again the same way you’ve come in. We should decorate the white
wall even were we to checkerboard it black & white t’would be a momentary
delight & the highs indeed right now come, come with me, cum on top of me
& let me bend you over while you reflex & work against your flowing oh
beautiful friction oh beautiful fiction as I await in the universe of my mind I
find you elusive as a gazelle & yet metamorphizing like shedding skin I
hear the snake rattling now let us begin!
Published & Copyright Malachi Doyle 2024.
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