Sunday, April 21, 2013

BOB BRUECKL


 3 Tweets
 
 
          I disembowel the percolating revulsion, I
          detonate the writhing wiles of lesions on the
          cusp of a snafu: musicked, crackless, bleating
          memes
 
 
          Stickily sticking it in headlong, pouncing on
          roughhewn morsels, pneumatic drilling with
          my cock, duskily-dowsed torpor, nudgy
          pique.
 
 
          Would I be a thing? Defile me. I'm
          insidiously warped, incanted, routed, smug,
          blatant, edgily erect, dastardly lethargic,
          mutely devious.
 

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