Aug 05, 2005 17:31
Three Wings
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I will pay you one Arkansas quarter for a roll in the hay with the identity of your choice. Two California bits, that is, for a night of passion with the truth you can't face. A lone .22 slug through any given partition for every taste of irresponsibility you can afford to part with. A sense of who I really am for an irrational fear or a bite to eat, whichever comes first. Two theories for every touch, give or take a definition. My final offer is one more second together for your last shred of dignity -- take it or leave me.
-starchy
the taste between
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will you keep looking for me the lines get so faded sometimes i wonder how i ever existed before you imagined me. before the idea of me. i will be the one flesh-bare and weeping. i will be the one seeing you out seeing you inside out. turning you down taking you up shove you there. yeah like that. you must have clenched your dirty palm around my left lung and ran to katmandu. you must have sunk your fingers into my belly weaving my gut, pulling your hand back to nazareth. what else feels like this? i want no one else and telling the you of me it is in the black light of cold winter minutes that i am building the revolution. but under this dark, no lovely words on reserve to draw to make this sadness dance. this sadness is a still one. one that drips along the edge of sigh. makes me wish not you not even time ever existed. but i will not let go until i am able to get a grip. who knew it would taste this sweet?
-solar