The pesty warrior chant,
Pestulant, penitant, pretention.
Take my mastication, it's pure, see.
And eyes' masturbation: it's sweet glee
(For someone.
Other than me.)
The cerebral exercise is a dulling fight,
If I work for my money as others think right,
If I don't barf emotion as every poet does,
If I don't fart contortion to see my problems.
For the tomb
Simplicity
Go mark your territory, claim it yours.
Mark the same for the soldier's war.
No. Mark your thoughts and hold them there:
Not high up but where your heart pumps hair
For a friend,
Possibly.
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