HarthPoetry

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Six Figures On Fixing What Can’t Be Fixed

So much for loving you.

I’m stuck and I can’t get out.

So, what do you do?

You Vaseline my cock,

and now,

I’m short a dime.

Hungry for more.

I’ve got nothing,

but black eyes.

Black eyes.

 

© 2006 David Greg Harth

06.03.02.15:24:33@205HudsonNYC