Sunday, November 1, 2009

PIECE FROM A WORKSHOP

she could roll blunts longer than your sarcastic punch line
the wax rolled down her candles on her bedside like swaggy stilloets after a long night out
i never seen such an energetic lost soul beam words like light into folds of notebooks
you manipulated her dreams
turned them into sewage
you curved pages at the chapel like strippers on couches
imprinted your mark on her fingertips like fingers on love handles
_my dear bible
i leave you backsides for morning brunch and fingertips for dinner

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