i spent last nite in someone else's skin
further, i may still be
this does not scare, rattle bones as though they are as scary as bones sound in poems
only wears down, slowly, like a mid-nineties sedan over time
after all iS said and the chores iS done, what is there left to say?
a question, of considerable ease.
a rabid wolf staring up at darkness with one eye, the other always watching
iS it the fangs that scare?
the way jaws slice through skin as if it were warm butter?
or can we say we've never encountered a wolf?
more specifically this wolf, the rabid one staring up at darkness with one eye, the other always supposedly watching.
as we dive off the deepest of ends, we set forth to justanotherplace, pretending to be frustrated with choices made.
and although many are as pre-fab as an RJ Reynolds addictionstick
addictions:sick, prepackaged existence dipped in shit
then wake from roach infestation dreams, i did this
you did this
we do this
after the end of the world doesn't happen, what's there left to say?
if you want it to be different, don't play your part, just play!