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Sunday, March 18, 2018

fuckyou stitches (1986)



when i say she left me
in stitches
we don't mean
it was funny

love is nothing 

like talking to 
your plants. we

can justify
that confidence by 
feeling at least
it can't hurt


*


i thought i was immune,
given a special gene
or antibody to protect me from

fuckyou

i reckoned love
was a cross on a chain
to ward off vampires, alas

my blood sped quickly
over fangs that regretably
transformed me
into a jetblackcaped

fuckyou


*


when lightning slaps
the ocean, no translation is
arranged for the reality impaired

when trees drop
their leaves, used
remains of a lover, 

no one whistles
the world feeds itself
to itself with cool& steady hands


*


spit and rinse
is a lover's lullabye
hung on the steam of a heavily mirrored apt.

wash and wear
can be heard darkly echoing
thousands of feet down
in mines by black-dusted men 
with canaries in their lunchpail psyches

disposable for sensitive skin
is a common joke
in our capitol's bathrooms,
tissues and baldheaded towel dispensors
wipe
drain
flush



1986 Lawrence, Ks

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