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More unfinished crap to torture

More unfinished crap to torture you.


half-asleep, you grabbed my hand
pressed it to your face, your lips
dry heated breath passing between
the web of my fingers

i'm staying up late tonight
waiting for i don't know what
i have gone for two weeks without
buying toilet paper and three without
once turning on my television
but have yet to go for thirty minutes
without thinking of you

half-drunk, you took my face
between your palms, lifted me
off the ground with the gravity
of kissing, set me down
where you found me
pleased with your work

you, like voices through
thin apartment walls beyond my reach
or influence, keeping me awake
at night reminding me that in the end
i wake up alone with a memory of
your fingers pressing against my waist
mine tangled in your hair

Posted August 24, 2002 4:50 PM



I know you got a tiger in your tank...too bad you're afraid to let it overheat your poetry.

Yikes! Does the FCC permit the words "toilet paper" to be used in a salacious context?

believe in the power of the foot rub...