photo from 2010 summer. words from a month or so ago.
not so cohesive
not like adhesive
all the words that
come to mind are fragments of lines
about fragments in time
wanting to be sublime
but even then they are not mine
they are yours
when you said what you said about why
whores have mores
and why we’re still believing in folklore
that says smoke more
sometimes i be a running
a thousand miles per hour
a thousand miles away
in a day and return
only to wish upon a rhyme
that yours and mine
might someday escape
to a faraway nearby place
but not so easy
not like the breeze
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