my dear young wannabeat:
not that your boyish cock is not real gone
but here's a purple pose from rewound gone:
our acid faces dripping waxed and wounded
in the cut glass crusted dusted mirror
before you were a throbbing mucous dollar shot
on a spilling thrill to your mommy egg
and bubbled in the raving dawn.
Neal would milk his chrome cruise
into your trim virgin caddy knot
zippo your butt and slam his throttle
until the stars rolled back in your head
then howl akimbo at your awkward whimper
elbowed and thighed and posed
mad chattering the moon on further
to the happy squirt of dawn's early fix.
a pale echo of his mad moon wail,
your map is cute but cuts no edge-
his crackle would split your skull
an old man in a dry month, etc.