Wednesday, 2 November 2011

d. d. d. d. d

there are lives unfolding under our breath,
 burnt out wicks from candles, stubbed impulses,
crumbs spilling out onto jumpers, hearts penned up in idioms,
brains wracked for synonyms, madness clasping our hands,
 tender hands, calm, gently suggestive, innuendo sustained,
much longer than any thought could be trained,
 heat seeking missiles wrapped up on themselves,
tail chasers and cross faders.

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