from journal entry for june 12, 2009
your cold hands will become a home
to my dead murderous bones,
these apparitions i would hold so close.
your patchwork lungs unfurl
in distant corners, tangled stars
form an ocean that will swallow us.
and there's no need or place for this
heart chambers and hands hold it close
and i won't let it fall from me
your veins made of stone
climbing far from me
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