Saturday, April 14, 2012


I decay
like moist
coursing through one's veins,
releasing its contents
to a greater system.

Be brave!
Set your summer language
beneath your fingertips
and let it lick pages,
fiddling its own way.

Do not let your words
Sweat and scream
ugly whispers into the fog.
Let your tongue fight the
bitter taste of death
and indifference.