Saturday, October 19, 2013


When you were fucked in love for the first time,
egging your chances, over the dry hump of a whole existence,
breaking in the radio, late night of the buttocks,
staring under the mirror, we are changed for reality,
there is no sensible end to this feeling, this peculiar disaster,
this and that run of wine and wildly radiant colored circumstances,
changed aching to combine, vaulted from a forested childhood,
unwillingly moving.

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