I made a rash decision and smeared
that fuck-paste across her face
and now rash replaces blush,
and the blood is subbing in for mascara.
The sweetest books I read to you,
deceased you lay with your eyes on me.
Attentative and patient, taking in every
sentence.
Your hair began to gray, and the birds came
soon after.
I logged you in my journal special,
"red haired space girl was lost in the subway,
helped her find her planet.."

Came whole
left whole
Except for cunt.
I keep them in here.

06/30/2009

Author's Note: You should never say what you intend. And never write what you're feeling. And never make logical jumps of progression because no one wants to read from A-Z.

Posted on 06/30/2009
Copyright © 2024 Johnny Crimson