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Crush Hour


Guest Shiva H. Vishnu
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Guest Shiva H. Vishnu

grit limping piss stream of rush hour

unctuous breath laquer chocking my wits

wind like a paper cut sewes through my lashes

"i'm not weeping, you ass"!

as i'm blinking back brine

two hundred trains tuck the angst in the fringes

and all but my train

in a kick-line of glory

from here to the devils's spitoon

shove it

dunk it

flush it back in the crease-greasing bloat of five thirty

i'm barrelling home

like a slick shard of glass

through the pink eye of dusk

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