Monday, October 22, 2007

Drunk Sandwich

There it is,

Porous, blotched brown resistance.

Stomach transforms matter.

Teeth clash with crisp wheat sheet.

Survivalist desire pouring through the physical.

Tasty contentment.

Thankful nourishment.

Low inebriated cleanup.

Then fiery passout heat,

With blotched snoring,

And wasted dryness.

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