Words were battlefields
But, the government offices have taken over them.
Their yellow semen of joy. Of making meanings as, clear as your face, in the daylight.
It may never happen again.
Words have caught STD’s and their mouths drip.
But still no condoms will be used and boars are most welcome to fuck us up.
Come inside a smokey room. With a paper and pen. Incense and cigarettes, flowers and water. They all go together, too well.
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