The Bull

A spinning 
twisting bull.
A firecracker,
turning up the mud.

I’m an asshole,
I know,
too many have said so
for it not to be true.

Told not to kiss,
I broke skin.

A bit of blood,
a whimper,
cost me 50 bucks.

I prefer to fuck strangers,
nameless beauties.
I pretend to love them,
I pretend they love me.

Sore,
busted,  
the bull snorts,
casts off
a rope of snot,
and turns up the mud. 

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