Thirst
I've got machine-gun bullet fajitas, I don't want to eat.
I want Ginsberg's Hell's Angels for breakfast.
I've got a beer full of dirt, I don't want to drink.
I want a bottle of back-washed Bukowski.
I've got coup d'etat insomnia, I don't want to think.
I want Kipling's head on a stick next to Conrad's.
Originally posted on June 23, 2005.
Some more of my poetry.
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