the sieve and the sand

Leaving the wheat with the chaff. This is not your mother's poetry blog.

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frankenstein

i think of you but only in bad ways

poetry

woke up this mornin’
with that taste in my mouth
felt just like you
when you were spittin’ me out
now the waters gettin’ cold
and your body made of smoke
getting less and less composed
of my breath you called a home

December 1, 2008 David X. Hugo Tagged frankenstein, past 2 Comments
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