Postmodern Poetry - Xanax Pop by Lewis LaCook

Last time in this cricket-soaked world you were given to know desire caught isolated and synthesized like arcs of capsules sullen or emaciated an abandonment dream shakes the gentle rolling of sleep respiration you struggle to repair vivid jack-offs everywhere or jacks off everywhere i guess you must be studying to be a saint asshole the dark robes fallen to one side sloping to one painful white breast searingly eloquent while torrential error messages lizard the back-formation spaced barking banks of tough dark river virgins pray like sufi cross-legged and spinning no-noise to return to that world without impressions ripple-less fell into that hole that’s only myself sinking past distinction snug in the jack to everywhere thing at one once again

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