slight hurricane. pisses its puddles in our path. distance. in fevers. velocity in the depth of my sickness. the simple science of temptation. reveals its mazes. torn dolls. gather their bitten smiles. and their frayed faces. the quiet tick of clocks. at last discovering this scarred flesh.
arrogant metaphors. spoil her desperate pantomime. clowns drenched in the perfumed blood of martyrs. salient garden debating the sun. for a taste of the colors still too far.
the simple ropes. tossed stone. listless games. the smother. the allegory of waiting. tricks us. into thinking we are close. the bandage. thick with scabbing blood. tells time in pennies. but purchases it in dollars.
shouting at gods she knows are deaf.
Sunday
1/08/2012 01:33:00 AM
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