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PK Wakefield Jun 2014
Is, the definitive
not me when
whose hands(?
)are these
in my hands, Spring?(the grass)

and trees occasionally
mirror the always of
my body as dirt;
there won't be
a day when. I or i shall

go amongst the chansons
of lilies the dilute spell of
life mysteriously. a flense

of an ember parted on
on the parting of a blade
of green and waxy earth

gardens will where gods
do not go and grow
more deep than worms

into each body their roots
as hard as soft as
and light might apparently
become a mote

of your wrists will
pass into the lips
of other lovers

a very tiny song.
PK Wakefield Jun 2014
.



































                                                  "what can I do?"


                                                   "what ever you want."






























.
PK Wakefield Jun 2014
.














                                            




­







                                              SO.me um sum *******

                                                uff ruff ******* so
                                                polished; leashed
                                                IN

     ­                                                      your
                                               spread your *******
                                               mouth
                                               let's (wider)
                                               hard i'm
                                               going
                                                         to

                                               so those
                                               fukin
                                               take em off
                                               satin white
                                               little littles
                                               ,
                                               ****(do you like it when

                                                i "yes
                                                ))))        ­       please

                                                please


­                                                 "hurt me
                                                  into apart teeth .   teeth
                                                  fingers inside

                                                  inside tongue
                                                  tonguing­ little
                                                  rrufff stubble

                                                  neck neck:

                                                  throat.
­
                                                  Gag.
PK Wakefield Jun 2014
there is a shape you are
the shape of a
cool
cool river
on a hothothot
summer summer

summer summer
day
day
day
day

(liquid cool;crystal between
the heap of your femurs
there is a tight tight
song of inside           ) i can and can you

hear
the slow and droop
of your crystal body
twinged with the caressed
lance of
awful day     (Let's Night) .


there is beach out there i have been to in the summer with you let's go
PK Wakefield Jun 2014
there is a man waiting a man waiting in short arms small
round, round round cheeks gaunt cheeks in fat eyes with
a hard nose a smart mouth a quick unspeaking mouth
a tense hurtles fist of lips and teeth not moving doesn't
say a word and he is waiting in his short arms fat eyes
and quiet mouth at the quiet mouth of every little dark
half empty half full glass of night and day at the end of
the night when you pull your lids tight and he is waiting
with his sharp hands his ludicrous expected hands of
your waiting your whole life for them when your walking
down down down in the little quiet dark of a half empty
street he's waiting at the end his lips pulled back over
the tight loosest grin of fleshless fat teeth tickling teeth
at the back of your neck at the back of your neck tingling
faster and faster at the same exact pace of your whole life
waiting.
PK Wakefield Jun 2014
.































                                                "Did you **** him?"
































.
PK Wakefield Jun 2014
you're so dying–i love how beautifully it,
where your skin is
i love(i wonder
how
        
it folds .i wonder
is there room
amongst

your dying and folding skin

for me to live;

to lovedie
between such,
breath so?

i wonder)
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