How soon words become their sounds saying themselves,
a muffled echo of a canyon packed
full with abandoned spaces.
I intend to fall over
you like the best part of a disaster,
like the thousands of things I have,
will have said to you,
only two will have been true.
Sep 17, 2014
Sep 17, 2014 at 2:56 AM UTC
How soon words become their sounds saying themselves,
a muffled echo of a canyon packed
full with abandoned spaces.
I intend to fall over
you like the best part of a disaster,
like the thousands of things I have,
will have said to you,
only two will have been true.
