Tuesday, March 4, 2014

dated poems - 1

I'm shaking, yes
it has nothing to do
with you

I'm a shiverer
I like being cold
small amounts of things
that kill
in large amounts

I dislike your painted face
     your sparkling sweater
     your gaudy baubles
     designed to entice
     as though you know what I want

you strike me
an animated light-up
waterfall painting
the kind I've seen
at flea markets
I hate that shit
so yes, let's let it die

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