Sunday, May 29, 2011

Wake Quick Morning

There is a hurricane in my nose.
Cut-off arteries tried and plied
Like copper pipes failing.
There’s wet all over the floor.
My dreams were stupid,
They had me begging for chains
And sliding up old skin.
Just look at the state I’m in.
Stiff necks can’t see over the fence
Where they have syrup and sausage,
And a room to eat all night in.

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