betray my only god,
metal pipes on metal cans.
lose myself one more time
and say ive found love again.
colors of the seasons -
bracelets that fit too tight -
hair that breaks and burns -
everything changes always.
i wish i could better choreograph
my emotional dance of despair.
surprises and improvs
are only exciting when
properly packaged,
and i cant wrap worth a damn.
sort of like the first time
i fucked.
sort of like the first time
i made love.






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