Wednesday, February 8, 2012

pack it up

every ginger door
splinter sore slams
                           o-shit structural damnage
blow grit out
orbiting tinny feedback loops
nuzzle all the rubble

i can't carry:
                  all of it i
mean       i'm going to kansas city
with a rocket for a spine.

& die because my giving floats astray
                               i miss cigarettes
miss my dragon drug
want my fucking

but i don't write much about things i used to do.

& don't worry i'm used
to it like i'm used to feeling used to feeling             my own tits.

a team of kind spiders
is already weaving my new hide,
                       built-in acid panels
solar self-soothing                    
but allow me to wish for
                                     just one body
                                     i could trust
to be wiser than i:
because i find i'm often kind of fucking dumb


JESS!CA said...

JESS!CA said...

ps don't start smoking again or we're both fuckt!

sars said...

Haha i literally wish i could start smoking sometimes but whenever i try i find them unpalatable.

unless i am really wasted and it's a roll-ya-own or nat sherman.

sars said...

god i miss smoking them though they were like the best on-fire friends ever