Sunday, September 11, 2011

Delicate things.

My head, a thousand anchors
pulling me to weightlessness
intoxicated by these
wicked games, forbidden eyes
humble beginnings in darkened corridoors
dangerous exchanges through
foggy glass and footsteps

pull me in deeper, until
my tongue creeps forward with this new
thirst, breathless, shameless
and I'm kept crazy
two drops at a time,
shaking on the precipice
shattering everything, flooded with shards

close,close,closer,close.








I have what you need

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