Saturday, May 2, 2009

An incarnate place
where my river sleeps dry
forgetting is next to impossible
you fill every space
like a great black balloon
that pops like gun shots
and shatters finely into skin
its metal heart
forging a metal lie
and your pieces multiply
the harder I scratch them out
a dissonance in my veins
that old immeasurable pound
screaming to let you out.

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