there's a cemetery
around my heart
& if it were to vault the gates
i know it'd land impaled
on a wrought iron rail
a red shredded balloon
raining blood down
the black rungs
This blog is updated irregularly and has nothing to do with the poet's output. The poet is actually disturbingly prolific. He writes about 5 poems per day. The pages are everywhere, even stacked in the bathtub.
Blog Archive
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2010
(103)
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September
(15)
- seizing the poison
- a quick note on genius
- the lack of everything
- un-jump-startable souls
- the fucked-up human stain
- if only we can die like this
- i feel like
- i can smell the stench from here
- born w/a cemetery in my chest
- gazing right through the dancing girls
- unwantingly speared
- the gory game
- darkness retained
- where the fuck is the relief
- one of yr animals dies
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September
(15)