Nerve-blasted, half dead on his feet shot through the neck
teenage hurt guitars on the cemetery hill
have that stung blueberry pie
on a drum machine highway
never touch the limits
a stinking stung by kisses
understood the forced sun, in its distance
moon in its holding pattern hurt
dog walked into a new silence
the lust of its musical hours sended
the podium it held upright in the woods is melted
its fort is a heap of leaves
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