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Scribe~Ills

Anna Sleaze is diseased.
Like Typhoid Mary,
and fucked with ease.
Always with a “Please!”
And a “MORE, MORE!, MORE!!”
Her need will never cease.
Anna’s Aesthetic.
Anna’s Septic.
Anesthetic?  
I guess I’m in need of a well;
Anna’s ink soaked tidal swell.
Even Eve’s Evening Eden,
does not compare,
to my bed-crested insomnia.
The mattress in moan;
heat, beat, and trying to be discreet.
Anna in Threes;
hands cramped, on failing knees;
we share a Joan of Arc mania.
Bottle fed on sex and dread,
and a haunting of faces;
giving me breakfast head.
Quieting the thoughts I have,
and the Witness; so artfully led.
My Eve, ending with Mary.
And my Anna Infectee,
needing to sink in her relief;
comes, with my Dis-ease.

(2011)

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