INCHING CRUSTS

By Asraa Bhollazayi

Deviling dervish, jaundiced son o' mine,

Beat three an' pick a vine!

Pick a vine, any vine, my cradled flesh of rust

The loins torn into an' sucked dry,

Marrow sticking t' yer gums!

Around, now,

quick

Supa-splicing me-o-mine

Tiny price an' we all eat!

S'long as th' fucker dies

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