Saturday, January 1, 2011

obscure

I'm thinking more, these days, of starving.
I'm thinking more, these days, of pages.
I'm thinking more these days of wine.
I'm thinking more, of kentucky, more than not.
I'm thinking more, these days of lap steel, and, turtles,
caught in traps,
that when you're young,
ruin your stomach,
as much as shooting dogs.
I'm thinking more, of men, who're mad,
until, the hip, consider genious...

who, when you're young,

make you think, you've ruined your heart,
like it's already been ruined.

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