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asthmatic love songs
Jack Henry
i lay on the lip of your last lie
folded into spasms of faded reality
complicated by dead voice screams
mother the children are dying echoes
from the television
two flies fuck, neither up or down,
yet, somehow, side to side, flagrantly tossed by bellows winds, intent on completion, and i know i’m not like that
yet your visceral delusions bring me
nothing but weak phases and tired
turning of rumored recovery, it’s written here somewhere – maybe not
i read your bible verse, posted on
a refrigerator door, covering trashcan advertisements - free tune up, free estimate, 10 dollars off w/purchase, but wait there’s more
we slide down though a yearning abyss, tempted by thrust and shove moments, hesitant to change the channel w/out a remote
burned in asthmatic love songs