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The Broken Gate
Torn paint dressed the fence that hung the broken gate
The broken gate witnessed the death-throe plants
The death-throe plants kept company with nicotine dregs
Nicotine dregs grew from hands above pitted concrete
Pitted concrete bore memories of lost revellers
Lost revellers were lost in a day’s pain and liquor
A day’s pain and liquor were birthed in a dirty tummy
A dirty tummy reminded of nocturnal, loving sperm
Nocturnal, loving sperm screamed from needful things
Needful things lived in the home with the broken gate.
poem
by
Wicked Mike
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