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Mar 2011
Please let me fit inside your paintings
The ones where the telephone wires are
Standing like towers over the burning orchards
Naked lovers wrapping themselves in picnic blankets
Holding white wine.
Make me last.
Let me be a fossil in the dust of your bones
So they can date me back to this ice age
They make fake snow you know

Remember I dented your car that night
Pushed up in metal your tiny
Thighs reflecting our disturbance
You dared

Please let me fit inside your whitewashed molds
Make a cast of my head, fill my eyes with lead
Coat my organs in liquid plastic, make me your favorite piece
A real beauty of a dead man
Display me in the store windows of history
Make vulture that can’t eat me
Make worms that can’t get to me
Make me famous.

We dug holes in the night
The earthen wombs trying to hide
Our dead futures. Make these tombs
Swallow faster. We dug holes in the light like blackholes
In the blackblue.
Make me antimatter
Make me matter.
Freds not dead
Written by
Freds not dead
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   Rada
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