

parenthesislast night i traced the bruise your bite markparenthesis
(the last of many) left on my upper thigh carefully, with the same pen i use to write my poems (and all the letters that you'll never read) like i was writing you down like i could keep our story there so that the next time she goes down on me (whoever she turn


on-ramp bluessomewhereon-ramp blues
between the freeway and the street i've got a case of the on-ramp blues it's that feeling that sets in
when the meter's on and i'm waiting
for that light to turn
(green... red...) green. because i know before i know it i'll be picking up speed with the radio so loud the speakers distort so loud that it hurts so i turn it up more and i let my heart beat then i roll down the windows and let the car breathe...
because there's life in everything i see even homes, and cars and roads a story growing underneath


for the dusti won't wait for the dust to settle on us before i pull on my boots and disappear into thin air before you have the chance to shoot or even aim.for the dust
by the time you wake, i'll be too far gone to hear you curse my name.
but can't you see how far we came
from this time last year? we had it all. and isn't it unsettling
how far we can fall without a parachute and still survive?
just judging from the distance it's a miracle we're still alive.
so i'll be gone long before dawn with just my jacket and my knife i'm gonna see
thanks for taking a peek at mine too.
--
"[..] Ti guardiamo noi, della razza
di chi rimane a terra."
E. Montale
~toy-camera *holga
*analog-errors ~lomolove
=indiephotographyclub
<3
--
let's play a game called you pretend i am an actual poet
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