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"comingles" poems
you are the heckler in the crowd trying to rip out the rug from beneath my toes silent was the treatment firm was my resolve indifference between books, tables, & legs. it lasted until the viewing party preening, fresh dye, a new luster to your slick, sheared visage you smile & draw a little bit of blood it comingles with your own hot & thick, (they await with baited breath the proper demise of union that never was) & slackjawed, wide eyed, resolve dis- solved I set you on a pedestal again
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Dec 3, 2013
Dec 3, 2013 at 12:54 AM UTC
mechanical pencil