Tuesday, 1 March 2011

walls. and what's written there

i could draw a map of how we ended up here.
impress under glass my fingerprints
for you to remember the ghost of their touch.

the taste of blood fills the mouth.
black widow solitary picking meat off bones.
picking up pieces.

no promises made of a picture always pretty.
but more.
more primal. raw and real. i feel it all.

and love.
it rages.

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