Monday, March 20, 2006

Bar Stool Drool

sliding the shine of switchblade
into the pit of your stomach
fishin around for something
I left there
and movin like lighting
through deeper water
and drunken memories of you
and me
of fine sadness and sweet release
while my face is trying desperately
to connect with your fist
but if no one meets me in the middle
I’ll just go home
only alone

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