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futility

men
mirror the massive, bulbous heads
effusively spewed
on dark folds, wet and
propelled careless by a twitching wag
kicking out eager, yet surrenderous,
in an epiphany of a half-lewd performance

jumping from the double doors of airplanes
or shooting from the sharp crease of a rock
tying their necks to beams
and pushing knives deep
into other men

it was forgotten, long ago
swallowed all the while by lukewarm
sanguine walls which spasmed
in a contract,
to spit up them all but
one, or two, and the rest
fucked off
and perished
low in a toilet bowl
or became an orb on the bed sheet, dried out
and smothered breathless by their mother’s shifting ass
gargantuan in contrast
or, chewed on merciless
by the acid of her stomach

but…to fall from the metal bridge
by the cord, of course,
and shatter down on rocks below,
what a seductive force…

chance perhaps we own,
or, my god, worth looking over
to know the sensuous tug,
a helpless kind of selfish
precision in creation

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