Wednesday, October 17, 2012

Bloadin

In the vase of it all,
your face just feudal,
seizure off the feast,

Her back...

...bringing in the dented flower,
wall stopping you sweetly.

First shouting when it singes.
stretched shouting soup.

The feet joyous.

Left foot drips over a pool
can't seem to stream...

through it all...

Just pickled when shouting,
cringing while pale
Her back is silent with the ocean.

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