Monday, March 14, 2011


rediscover imitation
as a form of communication
hands sealed
as identification continued
undisturbed for the last time
can I see
behind your mouth-poverty
I sense bees
your entire soul
I want to be a part of your imagery
tied with wire knots
to your uterus
and be young again.

Never wanted
to be inside your fingertips
so bad
trusting strangers
having sex with silenced infants
the agony of your puzzle
wrecks my
what's going on
with your life calculator

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