- = v o w s = -


death colour; 
her hair a magnificent flag of my defeat 
with its crack and her smacking lips of rose;
blows pouted o's in 

insidious smoke.
i / feel like half the man i used to be
(ironically, some might say, weighing twice what i ought to weigh) 
alcohol works my lips / hips / hops 

there is
no salvation for me
there is 
no calamity / no catastrophe / no tragedy
to small
for me.


rainbow waves of gold
her smile radiates.
I can only imagine love 
through the o of a silver ring,
studded with her diamonds.

The End

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