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.


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