Wednesday, February 16, 2011

hey, shoot, corn
not ear of, nightmare of
corn wrapped in hypnoerotic alarm clocks
an unmoving target like
there's something for everybody in my apartment

I look out my window
things look like they would close up
what shit affect all up in Charlie Chaplin
that imaginable corn gait master
with care he reads how you're driving
because you're driving
and where I sit

here, corn, have
I am all Chaplin
chaperoning so you can't not deny me mine
I never sat for days once
my prom theme was if you hold it in

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