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i love you my blood wench... my thump thump heart beat kiss me with a soldering iron... melted maga eyes ....burn me burn me... burn a hole through me... see right through me... fly a kite through me and laugh at the double dips and loppy loops that your thousand blown kisses produce.
use the back door my three footed mariachi maestro. and enter the dreams i have. of silken locks of petrified tears. bruised fruit and ripe wishes. i adore you. call me as your expert witness and i will surely testify on your behalf. i will paint rainbows with your eyelashes. watch you blink in ultra violet.
you mean the milkyway to me. help me recyle plastic bottles and weave wigwams with our wet dreams... i love you like aliens abduct and ears are shaped like question marks. sing me a song of trivial riddles and hum a sweet tune of soft answers. tell me of your grandmothers afgans the body
have you ever been an addict. and im not talking
about the hey-i-like-to-do-this-alot type of addict.
im talking about the
type of addict. im an addict. ive never blown anyone
to get it. i dont think i would. but i havent been
given the opportunity to either. the reason i say 'i
dont think i would' is because i like to pretend that
i still have something thats mine. dignity, pride,
standards. but i know i would easily toss those away
just to get it. i know because i have. so all i
really have is it. for one hour. for two hours. for
fifteen minutes or however long it last. however long
i can afford it to last. ill be high for fifteen
minutes if thats all i can get.
im an addict. i dont get high just to get high. i
get high just to get my mind off getting high for a
few hours. after a fix im good for eight hours.
maybe. then the last of my previous highs memory
cells dry up and i want. need. how ca
ViolinI remember the day
you told me violins
were strung with cat gut
and that is why
you hated music
(who says that to a child?)
I followed you
all that summer.
I watched you
grow away from mother -
your whiskey held better conversations
and all she did was cry.
We'd sit cross-legged on the porch
and count the horseflies
settling on our lunch.
You would drown tadpoles
in a bucket
surprised they could not swim
and I would dream
of cherry popsicles.
And when night would gather
on the sidewalk
I'd hold my breath
until a star appeared.
Don't bother making wishes
you'd tell me -
stars are dead weight in heaven
and God has cloth ears.
to crumble up
the remnant pieces
of my love for you
and throw them in the trash
but I'm such a bad shot.
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