Her picture blazes
in my room
her skeleton survives
intact
buried into my brain.
Now I bask
in that graveyard
pick a flower now and then
(they all smell like her)
and stick it through the buttonhole
of my breast pocket.
My collar is turned up
It’s so cold
my thoughts
are frozen.
My coat becomes longer
darker
freakish looking.
Soon my beard will swallow my face.
My stride is longer every day.
I have a two-dimensional
abstract
pituitary gland.
derailed freight train aka overturned big rig aka damian c. cohn's blog-like thing
Thursday, November 2, 1995
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Oh that final line just rocks! 95? really? Is that possible? I was still in highschool....this reminds me of my emo displays...which I always cease to have guts to publicize in fear of them actually coming true. ;)
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