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April 14, 2013


Acid memory.
Smoke in my nostrils, cinders on my lips.
Hot temple sunken beneath purple waves.
Tolls your name.
Walk, walk like you can’t stand.
I loved you for a year.
Would tire of you within a month.
I won’t age.
Sharp edge, bright, snow blind and aftershave.
You’ll turn, dry and broken, tinderbox and buried.
Don’t think the boys control the rain.
I’ve slept through better lives than they’ve lived.
Fucked myself better than they’ll ever fuck you.
Bleak anxiety in the euphoria of remission.
The virus I kissed into your lungs.
Melted velvet drips down the back of your throat.
Holy fire.
Set to the music of violins.
Catgut chorus, dialled in slogans.
The sky above us, let it be my shroud.
I’d die alone just to prove a point.


From → Poetry

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