no god but ghosts

December 14, 2010 § 1 Comment


No god but ghosts


when you think of me think balance crescent moon recitations, the final hours of sleep

my arm covering my mouth and you peeling me away dropping this carcass on the floor, i want to hear you, you groan before you catch that last bus to the horizon stretching like a rosary a cross and skull counting out the days til you return

me, dust slamming against the trees your soul as thin as paper leaves


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