Tuesday, June 22, 2010


I'm missing things that never existed:
rooftop home,
ceiling-to-floor hide out,
sailed ships of summer;
nails chip paint off
cracked-wood beds,
while fenced-in hearts
lay heaped in dwindled leaves,
a mangle mass of made-up meanings...

he said roaming would be easier.

Don't Haunt this Place

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