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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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