Tuesday 24 January 2012

My pores are bleeding;
missed opportunity,
felled delusions,
burning, burning
and more.

Time we had for aching nothing,
for dog eared fallacies,
Broken crying,
dreams of happy dying,
shit stacks and turn stiles,
turn corners and run
 miles on miles on blisters.

A dream of sympathetic sisters,
america and gold,
as the blue forgotten sunrise
takes hold.

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