Wednesday, September 7, 2006 5:06 PM

there's a distant, second hand screeching when you speak.

you're not listening.

you're not listening for the pale beating of misery.
in these folds.
on my skin.
on my face.
deep within your liar's lips.

where were you? where were you? when i died within.
where were you when my heart stopped beating in past decades? (when my soul stopped vibrating)

when my essence filled with anger at hearing you speak

there is irrevocable truth in the fact that there are calyces on my lips from their slapping in fits to afford the excrete via larynx mi amor para ti.





there is irrevocable truth in the fact that there are calyces from the slapping of my lying lips as i excrete via larynx mi amor para ti.