Saturday, July 30, 2011


is way too thin
and way too
to get under


1 comment:

  1. The summer skin seems to be wearing tin.
    Light creeps in through the cracks in the plaster.
    Intruding air grabs for attention.
    Fuck off all you pretty ghosts.
    Cant you see i am busy here?

    What in the world do you want from me?
    Have I not paid my time?
    What is the reason you linger so close to the surface?

    Just step out the door and head left.
    Hell you can go right for all I care.
    Just stop bubbling up and making me itch.
    I have forgotten the bitter sweet sting.
    I no longer find my mind thinking of your hainting.

    So I lie to myself.
    Whats the harm in that.
    Lunch still gets made.
    I forget to eat.

    Just shut your mouth.
    God I hate your mouth.
    that pretty little mouth.
    Ah, god off and fade.



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