I fall asleep with paper clay lungs,
Breathing hollow inspiration
Made from non-local colour.
Your tongue is the medium,
Your touch, a soaked sponge;
Leave me dripping love into my guts.
Choke.
Don't remodel what you won't keep safe.
Alarm clock awake, and art gallery peaceful;
Go back to sleep.
Thursday, October 25, 2007
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment