Truth Makes an Ale

truth makes an ale that is bitter and sweet
like pillars of sugar and oregon leaves.
the tongue can only taste the luscious,
the curious and the kind, for no lost tension
leaks juices from spoiled flesh. when i heard
no one took their tongue and made it sing
for you i sat sipping, the liquor burning
searing my throat until dually i was drunk
and hung-over. it's a holy ghost and a kingdom
for the bots who hunt you down in tired woods,
come home, eat their kill with pitchers of grog,
choke you down with a few lies.

truth makes an ale that is bitter and sweet
like the boys who rise up to fuck you.

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