poor form@

~ by perpetualvomit on August 1, 2010.

One Response to “poor form@”

  1. All of the rain on Venus could not dampen the lump in her throat
    Like cotton it was spun and woven
    Babies blanket
    Sunk so deep.
    Now a ballast for errant thoughts
    Homicide, blood letting, tear shedding
    All the same to one with no breath or voice.
    lens to focus.

    We came to this island with hope in a vile. Tucked neatly between her mothers flesh and Brassiere. The wind took that as toll upon arrival and a similar currency was exchanged.

    Bitter trench coats draped the windows and walls on all sides. Floors and ceilings tiled in broken glass. This became her sisters home were she would rest her head hoping to feel.
    on her necks. She prostrated on the glittering ground for weeks.

    Downward dog. Stupid bitch.

    Upon release she crumpled with it. Searched it’s new skin for a clue to her survival. found the vile her mother used. Clenched in a inch wide fist.

    All of the rain on Venus was inside. Lost replaced. Lost replaced.

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