Poetry Blogs (old leftovers)

2am.

(1) 
"An indifference cuts lazily and deep: a sawhorse of my spine and yours pressed togheter in a pine box.

six feet down, with our watches ticking on our chest, where there's no breath, and no light, we echolocate back to back. We just find walls and worms. Our composition decomposes. 

Apatyh is a weapon best served cold on the end of a pointed silver tongue. Sometimes I put it down, and dig up...

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