Sunday, September 18, 2011

involuntary taste

there is nothing you can do that
i won't assign some super-
natural significance to

walking in right now could
only serve me mixed signals
like faces in the grain of wood

i hallucinate some piece of fate
my color drains and my pulse
climbs to an unhealthy rate

so keep a distance that's safe,
a piece brimming over with kief
relief for/from my waif

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