May 19, 2007 23:19
yours, quick fruit pectin, brought to me for attention, my god it's been a long while, my god has it really been that long, talking smaller and smaller in the city of garbage, liquor dripping from the maple leaves bitter syrup to me comes, my god are you really mine, is this dancing out of the grave for the taste of his lips, ten divided by three on and on, shuffle my play right it on, a pale of water never wondered, rolling all round the mat (the sweeter it tastes) a gamble down the canyon (the sweetest it tastes) parched, have never there been a circle that did not finish itself dry, my god so did i, not the color of concern but the heart burning locked in its case (BUT OH THE SUN! DOES SHINE HERE) taste it dribble down from silk, gliding, reflections of lips, never alone while the bathroom light is on, and it's on, the embarrassment the embarrassment anxious waves of grinding teeth, for some beautiful treasure your hands from its slipping, oh she's gone and she's gone and he's gone, mornings are eating but where the electricity of bitter tea, oh how small you've become out of age, this is my dream of turning down everything oversized that is not chanting along with the rhythm that bounces and crashes all through my bendystraw bones stringing along my chin or a fist or a lick of your lips when in the treat for for for the times when i salad toss all words mine to the city of garbage people and your laughing is as loud as mine, all this can be without my lips becoming all of me