no soap, no ethyl for my skin.
no hangovers left to form my
bottled innocense
may god keep my inner saint
whole so that i may no longer
need to scrub and scour my skin.
may the lord keep me from chaptering
my signatures of sorrow at noonday.
now that all my ethyl gods have evaporated.
i judge all clutter with a sterile sobriety
i take their hollow sinews to the recycling bin.
tossing them in a pile they clank and clutter
loudly.
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