This is the first time I’ve reblogged poetry. Considering it’s Rarasaur, this may also be the only poem I ever feature….
My books are laced with cocaine, I’ve been told–
the natural eventuality
of any paper product
that exchanges hands so often.
They don’t mind.
They tell the stories of
mind-bending drugs,
and mind-blowing sex,
and mind-altering
punk rock villains.
Books, like boys:
I’ve loved all types, at different times,
and sometimes at the same time.
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