segunda-feira, maio 03, 2010
my head felt stabbed
by a crown of thorns but I joked and rode the subway
and ducked into school johns to masturbate
and secretly wrote
of teenage hell
because I was "different"
the first and last of my kind
smothering acute sensations
in swimming pools and locker rooms
addict od lips and genitals
mad for buttocks
that Whitman and Lorca
and Catullus and Marlowe
and Michelangelo
and Socrates admired
and I wrote: Friends,
if you wish to survive
I would not recommend
Love
Harold Norse
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