Summer Clothes
two years without winter Lent approach
midnight meal seconds of a song by the glass
cars dance for us
repeated follow and does not really look like
but still we are here
rain away from all sides
party rinse the idea of happiness-impact back of the throat
Gap faces accomplice
I vomit my too full of fun
but still we are here
I saw my last-minute squabble water mud slut
God I was not created in your image
ctrl-x ctrl-v
summer clothes are my feet my head is our foot
but still we are here
then walk back door on the street of death impioks
Every day we send its signals
white hair tibia holed wrinkle of a smile
your fingers crackle light as foam
but still we are here
I finish my book travel page 12
mine pencil pencil pencil
I'll gum my frontal cortex pumice pilate
my bare feet are planted in asphalt
but still we are tired
But so are we.
But still, us!
But still.
But both ... But
. But
.
.
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