Thursday, November 19, 2009

its ok im a saint

a partitioned box and measurable hoax

I meant to leave home sooner

through out those escapees

who were unorthodox-ed

and also in the muddy streets

characterized by hearsay

and black impulse in toe

now and again stuck between the meadows curs

where immense heritage and forlorn past met

learned the pacifist pain in the good morning

structure weighing on me wholly


upright


my sainthood questioned

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