What The Mortician Will Find When He Opens Me Up
A history that's long forgotten
Laced with something sweet and something rotten
A scattered thought, a ghost or two
A worn out Converse tennis shoe
A fetish that would make you blush
A single word that means too much
Calamity you can't undo
A promise that you never knew
A slightly feline disposition
The traces of an old addiction
A pinch of hope, a dash of soul
An ego that I might have stole
The Giving Tree, some Hemingway
And a warm, safe place for you to stay.
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without hope
ReplyDeletewithout love
she sees herself
from b3low and 6bove
her untied hands
she fears to think
to believe that life
really has no end
--The 4laming 7ips
-------------------------------------------------------------------disclaimer-------------------------------------------------------------------
this is the end. no matter what happens after this you can be sure that i will not be there for you. there is no way out but to destroy yosef. have you even been to app? state? no. that wasn't you at all. i saw your face in the masses. eating peatut butter with a spoon. smoothing out the mountains like making a rootwalla sandwich. a l l your judgements and predisposions will completely and utterly cease like the abolition of another blood worn disease the moment of complete and utterly clairity. charity. charlottanism. harlotagnotic not my style. keep writing stuff no one wants to read. i read what no one rights. you read yosef like the mountain man in the hills he always wanted to be. and as i looked at that tree of bronze and chizled out stone, i realized. i needed someone to make me into that.
-------------no complaints-----
but i wish i had more time for my brain.
tyhere werer somes pelling errows
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