Monday, August 17, 2015

you, earthmother, stranger's son

no problem here.
everyone is a person, damn
that trail is only there in the right light
everyone that you don't meet is constantly walking away from you
i'd never
he'll show up when he does and i
just want you to consider the voyeur satisfaction in thinking about it now
i just want you to hate me before you meet me
their paint is in our veins, don't you understand?
look at these circles under my eyes
i didn't put the lines above my drawers there, did I?
that's high grade stuff, opium
you know it's good because, err
your dad never would, would never, wouldn't
touch those words with his tongue?
my questions are like bubbles and burps now, giggles of humility
they used to be hiccups and hammers
but you dance more when you aren't watching

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