all the kids in the neighborhood 

toilet paper me. 

but that toilet paper

is made of wool. 

—

drip on drip on denim drip on drip denim drip on me 

through me drip drip drip me drip on rips of denim 

and drip rips on drips on and on and on and on me. 

—

they lash me with their house keys and i feel like a thousand bankrupt cakes crying a thousand porno mag shaped tears and a thousand donuts losing their small colors and a thousand bulbs bleating rind, rind in the mud and a thousand tiny hairs of a wet, wet letter and a thousand pictures of dead smoking sections in IN and a thousand recordings of fire laughing in my chest that were just you pieces i had stuffed there while thinking you, you.

(this is for a ghost) 

•  16 January 2012  •  10 notes