Saturday, December 19, 2009


The pressures that soften the cage
soft wells of skin
they sink whilst you sleep
Shape of your structure
the skeletal ardor
corrects the idea of perfection
prefer the status of an idol...
to always love you

As prayers do plead
120 days I ask
a beautiful arch, an invitation
for the arms of the lost
illicit, forbidden

we have our reasons

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