Whereforto Ye Wanderers

Whereforto Ye Wanderers.

Thursday, January 17, 2013

if this is a poem, please give me a gun

and if all i can think of is a title,
please give me a knife
i'll cut off my hands in order
not to write a single goddam love letter,
a blank check..something trite
i'd like to write nothing and
speak it from sight,
i'd like to do nothing
so therefore i write; all the wrongs
i done did they were nothing to compare
to the lenth of yr fingers or the thicknesss of my fair
fair skin, do begin to tell the great story
of how we fell so deep in love that it began
to get boring.. and yet here we are dream-fucking
 and forging towards a river we both
know is only for drowning

if this is a poem,
please give me a gun.

smithoreeens! smithoreeens!
a trigger.. a tongue

 whats the difference ?
    they          blow
     i suppose its
       The Way

you get off/ but you will

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