Wellbutrin

You hassle

this day

blind-happy

pushing complicated

holies

onto the subway

platform just like

anyone, thinking

of Mars,

(blog photographs)

impossible to feel

harshly

about Deimos

or Phobos

those shy, dark

votaries just large enough

to squat

unwarmed.

I.e. if you hug

GIF-friendly

this morning

their digital cheeks,

you won’t fall

backwards

into chasteness.

A hint of

of tit

a splice of cock

as you lift

your Metrocard,

winking

“We are all holy

the flame

of god,”

burning lewd

like an unquenched lighter

in a forest.

When Mars burns out

and particles regroup

fall in

on one another

a cycle

endless and repeated

your combination

will discover itself again

and step back

into a better

life

and your future son

and his pregnant wife

will run into

your pavilion

of blue sky

and soiled words

screaming

asking what

you can do

for them

that time can’t.