A social site for poets in Sydney.
This proud building stinks like religion
In a casket
Sweet like rotting passing
Dancing like the grave
When it shatters
When the earth cracks it's wet
Like a necrophillic orgasm
And I hope my blackness meets with maggots
And swerving languid pieces of people
Great trembling and silence
Found in the mud
Sinking down to blazing
Fury is hoping
And sideways comatose is a call to a God
Convulsion is the prayer I see in my nights
I break my fingers against the rock
And bleed a Hebrew prayer
Against my fever:
It stings like masturbation.
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are you gonna be okay?
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