Sunday, August 10, 2008

Shift Gears

Every hair follicle open
turpentine, sandpaper, fire
strip off the layers.
Raw flesh ready, new
I kiss you.
Felt your eyes wander, looking for someone
the grass is greener everywhere but here
Your saliva coats me, forms a scar.

Rip the scabs off
I'd rather ooze than be soothed
be alone than be placated

Find new gears, fast enough to fly
Be seen by eyes that look at me
too fast to be held.

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