(UNTITLED) repudiate they the losers we the winners let's roll off a mountain live in spain and you'll always be the same old man and i'll always be my own self and straining strolling, as though time was not draining i said i just wanted you to understand but i planned on your mind becoming mine the fighting was not for freedom but anger like petals of wilting flowers and rain of drying books children and wax scented hands fight for the last seat on a one seated train read books all the same leopard - i love the depth and the height entailed you smoke into flames and become a transitive verb you are my skin my sex, what i wear you are the clothing i drape over my head, a sphere of influence it calls out to you to your hope your hope dwindles as we walk along the beach of resting peace the candles still left burning melted to the butt but a stump of colored wax.
Jacqueline Samuel
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