Tuesday, June 30, 2009

the tiniest pair of shoes we could find you weren't really shoes at all
we grabbed them that week the weather stopped
six or seven days without so much as a breeze
it took a small hole, so that we could leave the rest of ourselves before we returned
so here they are
laces like silly wet spaghetti strings
two worn heels to match your dreams and an upside down tongue for your ideals
and though it may seem the result of our work remain halfway concealed
wait for their dare
and close your eyes for what feels like the warmest amount of time
until everything you can taste is pink
and everything you can feel is white
and your only smell peptides

wait.. there it is..
breaking.. breaking news:
your parents are children
whose parents were children
defined by their habits and what they internalized
so now you can either
suck it the fuck up
or continue on
an orphan
homesick for it's foreskin

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