Tuesday, September 19, 2006

New habits die.

Does anyone know the number for 911?
Does anyone have the short of long,
For abuse from your own hand?

A shapely pale girl walking the lawn
Taking more than me along
I will shame you like your mother
I will shape you like dead dirt.

I know you like the back of my back
I know you like the inside of my mouth
Hurry home and find the closet you’ve been hiding from.

I like to believe that your reach is made of distance.

Moreover you will fall through the cracks in my floorboard mind.