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by
Eliot
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Waverly
Poems
Mar 2012
Digging.
I wanted to toss
something,
I wanted to feel
your body
like
palm prints
on my windowshield.
Write
"I HATE YOU"
all over me.
I can take it.
I've got thick skin,
but my heart
is shallow;
you could touch
it
before your fingers
grace
the pleather
of my backseat.
I fake it alot.
Some girls think I'm macho as ****,
but really,
at my creamy center
I **** them
like they are splinters.
Just trying to get it out.
So let's back out.
What's a splinter
to a whole human?
Nothing.
Nothing but an irritant
that itches,
when the computer
is on a high-wire
glitch
and these girls climb telephone poles
thinking
they're fixing
me.
When really you've boled
a hole
in everything
and climbing poles
gets them farther
from my core.
Written by
Waverly
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