Monday, August 13, 2012

when-

when the city was not inviting enough
and the dreams punch card into the realities of destiny
when rains were too dry
and I was living with hosts of marinated magnolias
and half truths and stubborn lies
I found you like the holy book and war
as the dawn of the river titicaca and the sunset of serengeti
and verbal masturbation
and my fantasies of all,
of all, of all.

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