pastoral

full to the hilt, sad eyes
drop closing gestures
out to the master bedroom
someone dislikes handing
out happiness, and so
won't

(how it hapeens won't be, or isn't, called my fault)

too good is never bad enough
good enough, i'll cry open
sores through sandlewood stares
emptying malfunction from the
drain pipes - out through
gutters
(you hope for enough and enough hopes for you)
then stutter outwards: coming through
might just be overrated
might be overlookable
we'll (wait, there is no "we" now)
but one'll go by happy as circuit
boards - one'll be touch and go for a long while.

three guesses who the latter is.

2004-05-19 | 7:18 p.m.
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