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Old 04-09-2013, 01:48 PM
Posts: n/a

2:28n ARcadia time. That's where I live. .

We fall head first, like jets and skyscrapers. You kiss my nose and I'm struck by lightning.

So I'll leave the lights on. It's no secret what's between the sheets. We know how taller skies lead to tales. I know better than to be friends with boys with girlfriends.

I take these pills. They make me slender. I cut my hair and I cut my skin. All is quiet in the yard.

I am frequently in love. If you fill my lust with all you have you feel from something else. It's the longest drive to nowhere.

Christ. I'm only bleeding; that's not dying. My brother slits her teenage wrists. She's fucking him. He's fucking sane.

If they take my hands, will it be to burn or to save Amen. In the disorder, will you be the sound mind? In the disorder, are you still my Cross Sign. When the riots break, will you be the safe plus signs? In the crux I trek, will you be the byline?

I can't tell if they're laughing with or at me. All those hits. Let's join forces. Guns and horse titter. Every fire is those hints learned.

I left my house. left my clothes. Door wide, shutters down. Who knows what will become of you and I.

Inside a street car or on a mountain trail, details details. You breathe when I exhale. From the rusty parks to the icy winds, wwho know s what will become of high tide and trade winds and cries.

You move so fast. Makes me feel lazy.

I write and scramble to connect the dots, but it's a love note to no one but me. I wish I could be it all for you. Come clean to makes sense of everythin. g I'm standing here to see your name in every face. I s ee your face here in the dark.

In the dark, with a downturned facel the car will get us there so you don't linger in the night.

I'm a-wreckin the day. Perched on a citadel with CHrist as companions. I'm quietly quiet out of my head. Desperate and dead to the citadel. I'll hold you close, dear. Rest your burdens. I
ll take care of little boy in manger. I'll take care of the man burning a-bright. I'll care for the broken holes in every palm we all seem to hold. I don't think you know me much at all.

In the cords of crowds, you are the peavce sign.

I'm'm breakingg the balcony. I'm breaking mybones. Who are we to turn each other's heads and find ourselfs in other fpeople's heads.

Who are you to make me feel good? I guess that's hwy I call you God. 2:48.

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