I imagine a neck,
Split open like a flower
with many crimson petals,
A soft and foamy gurgling,
and intoxicating fumes lifting
in hot and dense clouds.
The extensions of limbs,
Slowly being emptied,
Drained until those many pipes and tube run dry
like dust.
This is our friendship,
What nourishes me, also kills me.
Nov 15, 2010
Nov 15, 2010 at 7:47 PM UTC
I imagine a neck,
Split open like a flower
with many crimson petals,
A soft and foamy gurgling,
and intoxicating fumes lifting
in hot and dense clouds.
The extensions of limbs,
Slowly being emptied,
Drained until those many pipes and tube run dry
like dust.
This is our friendship,
What nourishes me, also kills me.