Speaking tongues a sixth & seventh
her Witchita's fiery dialect extravaganza blows
Nightmares of rainstorms
sire her desires
not yet wary of exordium
penultimate psyche wards methadone her sky
Ekphrastic DuChamp narrates ferocious lucid
adjectives enter her cunt
Peal her
her nerve-ends're twice begun
objectified by tithes beyond need for consequence
or artifice
As due her polis
Her polis is a page is a purpose nearly orange
her words are machines (im)posed as they're lit
her Nazi paparazzi clutch-purse her thong
Today a thug (her one & only)
'll mutter "i've bollocks in yr boneyard."
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