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pineliquor Jun 2019
read me a poem and I'll bleed a tempo
out for you. I'll dye red the page (leaving no margins)

words will skip-skip-skip on the tip
                                    of my tongue,
a foreign one.

I sing the notes wrong but the sounds are lovely still.
(be a gentlemen and don't blow my cover)

I never was good with words and words are never good
they are never accurate, ever stable,
you stab it with meanings till you **** it

— The End —