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i cut off all my hair.it no longer hungin a moody, drunk sway.like the girls in the music videoswe tried to imitate.and the photostell the storyfright..
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i think you could have the giftof making me feel absolutely tiny.in oversized clothingand my new, new hairfreshly washedlike duck feathers.toes peekin..
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good bone-structure,and gazelike a cornflower.we breathed puffs of airlike cigarettesand in my headyou loved meoverand overagain.
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jumper,embraceleave a scentawkward, youth-grownpretty boyeyes unmadeacross the exam hall.the shamei've replaced,replayed,(retraced).
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the books lay huddled,like sleeping kittensthe dust motes they hid,concealedbeneath their warm panting bodies.girls,with dirty, rubbered fingersplied ..
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Compartment 114
Compartment 114
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my friendsare all in loveand spend their weekendsin their made-of-lovearms they heldprivate bedat the top of the stairs.i'm with the girlwith daisies ..
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in the grill of the car,its necktautand broken.eyesstitchedand unseeing.is gone,gone,gone.
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i want your hungerand your melancholyand the different types of cheesesstashed in your refridgerator.and the glass bottlesthat we drankin your garden...
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i wrote the bookthe trite how-to.how to love,without hope of loving(back,when we were in her bedroomand you peeked your eyesfrom under your strands)an..
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the end of romance,is her.found,with your hair unboundclasped round the middleby a strangerwith whisky breathand a valium heart.we were the endwhen yo..
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