Like Dionysus grapeless and in want:
constricted by vines, without Bacchi,
a lonely heterogeneous hedonist
taking time off. Collecting his thoughts.
Feeling the lust bubble up and rupture
each blundering organ inside of him:
Daffodils in his stomach.
And all of your venison, ambrosia and tiny ankles
produces thirst . You are the corset of my lungs.
I have no time for thoughts.
Four Deleted Scenes from Noa Noa
16 years ago
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