Tuesday, April 14, 2009

stop talking (13/30)

I can't read your mind
or your lips
but I know they are both cold
begging to be blessed by your breath
that bleeds much more bullshit
than your cut wrists might
on a Sunday night
and much more than my stomach ulcers
could handle in one setting
yet your steam creeps
through my q-tip cleared canals
like in one ear and out the other

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