Thursday, August 07, 2008

shave the important parts
under the cholora
she promised to meet him
at 7 and change

down the refinery
swallowing pills
got a fetish for impulse
and crisp dollar bills
she slaughters the moon
a wreckless disaster
holding my throat in pristine plastic hands

dust isnt sure
but the remenents lay beautiful
scattered pale memories
asking to dance

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