30 April, 2015

Bag of Dicks

No bags thrown

Did you throw a bag at me?

Did you just throw a bag
at me?

I felt the flop
Putrid, loose


I smelled the stain
days later
and wiped it clean
It was healthy

But the dicks lingered
They danced
I wiped again
and still their mutiny mocked me

Whipping, gelling, writhing

I refuse your leak
I reclaim my (face)
Pick up your bag of dicks

This is the triumph
This is the rebirth
As the scarab, so the phoenix
I soar above your bag
And leave you with this truth:

It’s not the harvest
It’s the sow

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