34. Pudendum Addendum

I blush
at this rush
of word
turds
and rue it
as I do it
alone.
None
of my kin
knew sin
like this
piss.
Ear slugs
eat ear plugs
these days
in ways
the old
and bold
ones
never dreamt.

The only pure silence is this.
What boos, what bravos may come
will fall fallow on worm-food ears.

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