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I look in my palm
In search of purpose;
These lines must be code
For something bigger than me.

Psych!

Rather find my purpose
In between girls’ thighs;
Mute the superstitions and
Wind up in Jane’s eyes.

Psych!

Where is a beacon of hope,
So I get lost again?
The refractive period is long,
Pheromones change smell after orgasm.

Psych!

Would rather look in palm
Ascribe meaning to lines.
Lost in the high of self:
An apothecary of choice drugs.

Seriously, though,

Should have killed self
When church started boring,
Or when I screamed “69” and
Only the reverend turned his head.

Pun!

©herbertuba2017

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