Wednesday, December 5, 2012

sunrise as serum

the fangs
slide in just below the shoulder blades
their curvature more painful
that the devil's honey they gift to me

each cough
is a pane of glass i may have liked to keep
for a semblance of routine
but then, my eyes gave up on drapes long ago

means nothing as a weapon
to one who's had a diet daubed with torment
that is one reason why the rising sun and i laugh

and let it all bleed to pretty up the future skies.

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