Monday, August 10, 2009

smoke signals



but beautiful, your eyes were wondering, and your mouth was stuttering, and your hands were shaking. 
i think it was in your best interest he said, to just swallow this pill and follow me down the rabbit  hole, your words are mumbled under your pleading sighs 
we are just a mess of lace, white smoke and premature bruises not yet dealt by your hands.

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