May 20, 2012

Pyre Green

the smell of cigarette smoke
likes to follow me, can't leave me
it contorts my lies and wrings them
and knuckles knead and knead them
until the diaphragm hurts

thoracic cavity
cavity -
grey ash flies along the night
smoked black
gummy tar
the need, the want
the need not to not want

it follows me
it sticks to me
it looks me in the eye so that I should not sleep
it speaks into my mind so that I should not think
it speaks of you, of
how you can already see
someone else in my skin

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