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Are you worth the rope used to hang you?  Does the stain left by your passing eclipse the mark you have left in this world? Who cries for you? And do they mean it? Are you worth the salt in their tears?


011213 1926

I want to punch you in the face until your mouth stops making that talking sound. Until there is nothing but gristle and bone left. It’s  not elegant,  I know. But you are not worth erudite words nor elegant actions.

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It used to be fun.

laughing in the warm glow of the setting sun.

your arms around my shoulders and

the blackness of your  lashes heavy on my lips.

but now only the disdain of your cooled ardour remains;

scratching, mindlessly, at the hollows beneath my cheeks.

even the shadow of your fingertips repulses me.

even the turgid brush of your gaze.

now I wish you would disappear, like the setting sun.

but you rise again every morning, like that blighted star,

and only  hate lays heavy on my lips now

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I had forgotten.
After such a long winter;
After such a calm spring
I had forgotten.

Now the first threads of summer
Weave their hot, sticky fingers
Through my hair grown black
like a raven’s wing.

I had forgotten.
The heaviness of my serpent teeth;
The depth of my dark desire.
I had forgotten.

Night jasmine blooms
And scents the turpid air.
Just as my despair blooms,
And stains the breathe I draw
With whichto call your name.

I had forgotten.
After such a long slumber;
After such sweet dreams.
I had forgotten.
How much I hate you.
How much I hate.