It Sucks Life

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Writing a poem is like watching a wave
This poet thinks it will do as it should
Fill in the words, do the work
Drop sand into the glass,
Wash over the coke bottles
Just washed up, not stranded.

Never kiss a poets finger,
It may be infected
Busy rearranging the thing so
It is
More pleasing
Like perfect breasts
Perfect penis, like words strung
All sorts of ways.
Killing kittens is not allowed

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