Be In Your Liver

Stare at the lights of the City,
they are only experiments to God.

The belly of the drunk
is just him mad
for not being a virgin again.
He’ll start his quest tomorrow
to split you open,
to drink your virgin facial grease.
The bars open at noon.

I guess we are conformers
to that liquid entertainment
the government has left to be legal.

Be in your liver,
be tomorrow again.
And go on,
dig from the toenails of God,
trying to find
. . . THIS . . .

it is yours to finish.

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