Monday, February 7, 2011

Day 571: slur

it fits on the back of my tongue like a skin graff
like something i've forgotten
burned bright
like s secret kept in nightfall
in constellations
in things that sound pretty when they slip into the universe
into reality
look like they shine
but only burn
we only burn
only break
tar a feathered
hung like jesus

we are not secrets
neither were their intentions

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