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Pleasures
#1
At the peak of despair my rucksack contains
some glistening keepsakes.
Though burdened by sadness and hate
I cannot deny these trifling pleasures.

I take pleasure in art which convinces me,
if only for a while, that human designs have worth,
and hope and love are real as bones.
Like Oriental lamps it floats to the roof of my skull,
a thousand fragile lighthouses.

I take pleasure in the buttocks of men
when they're firm as a deity's fist, high as roofbeams
and tight as a highwayman's heart.
When I see ones I like I want to bury myself inside them,
cock and balls entirely, until my gender disappears.

I take pleasure in battered chicken.
Even the greasy paper bag and polysterene cup of sauce
resurrects my joyousness, lost since childhood.

I take pleasure in nihilism and atheism.
Humility is beautiful, and the buttocks of men taste that bit more divine
when one doesn't have to thank Yahweh for them.
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#2
after reading that i might change in my old ageTongue

greatSmile
consistency is the hobdob
of small minds[
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#3
haha!

Thanks for the kind comment, SJSmile
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