Wednesday, May 17, 2017

Poem 91: Reaper

the tips of my fingers are cut
from reaping broken glass

my eyeballs are a blur
from reaping news

my nostrils are stung
with reaping cleanser

my mouth is burned
from reaping Texas Pete

my ears are torn
with reaping Butthole Surfers

my mind's blade is glutted
from reaping america


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