Sunday, 5 February 2012

the fan belt was burnt out as my imagination,
my rain coat was all holes and my cupboards are all cans

by the time you'd filled my head with door wedges, 
tapped open my eyes, filled my ears with metaphors, 
stopped my heart dead, stuck me sinking to the ceiling,
lined my bones with led, by the time you had set my mold to drinking,
love was already bleeding red. 

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