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not much in the way of direction

Thu Apr 9, 2009, 8:00 PM
drown yourself
in garbage; nobody can hear you scream.
transatlantic no-bodies taste rubber, and the side of my wrist

imprints, weakness. nice-to-know-you. finger my sore side

left umbrella, personal stare.
cancer friends, perfect strangers.

I left my soul in my other pants, which were stolen.

pecan gravy, with espresso beans.
I grew up in hell, or starbucks. Hitler, my barista.

I find this offensive. my sensibilities, rent sometimes.
bile takes a fever.

cold umbrella, shapely tent, painless toy music.

wet friend, shake your hair, whistle to my sympathy.
I could use someone like you, and then I would regret it.{no I couldn't, and yes I would...if I could. but I couldn't, can't, [wouldn't]}

sensibilities! another piercing hole. rent silk
with no lights on.

nobody can hear you, because you're too
damned
quiet.

{[OH!] my sensibilities, {{carry my umbrella. [pain for johnee's whispers.]}}}

  • Mood: Disgust

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