Wednesday, March 25, 2009
of running
running through the woods
nothing can erase;
deleting
a hidden war
a ghost knocking on the bed,
everything and
anything can be less nothing
don't go in
but do;
come lets see a ghost
it died
just run,
past monday afternoons,
drenched.
i want to soak in a pond of leeches;
suck on me.
suck on this.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment