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Rated: 13+ · Poetry · Cultural · #419892
a visit to charing cross...
these cardboard cathedrals

purified by pungent piss

blessed by birthpain howls

in dialects foreign

is where i pray



these drab brick walls

damp green

moss-sticky

are my stained glass windows



the insanity of morning

slashing

at my shoulders

is the cross i bear



the gutter is my altar



and my companion

heaving phlegm on cold bleak stones

is called

barabbas
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