A BLANK DEDICATION
5/11/98 I. You disappear You reappear You are my poet/doll. You were gone You came back You are my poet/doll. I cannot own you I cannot keep you I cannot love you my poet/doll. You are too slick You are too quick You make me sick my poet/doll. pins and needles in your head i killed you before, you should be dead set in stone, you bled and bled you are not my poet/doll Öbecause you are free. a talisman i make of you i force you to return you do not and I am alone.
|The East Village Poetry Web