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Thursday, November 4, 2010

bruxism

the color
of shadows and lines
    drawn in the dark space between us
    the shapes and contents
    -luggage, and lucrative examples-
                         scribbled half-heartedly
                         in the corner of our eyes
                         and in the palm of my hand

             where is this?

when the stains have faded
i will wash my hands in your escape
                         thankful
                         wishful
                         empty
                         and no one.

            a sleep cycle curls
            at my feet
               in a fatal error
              -a fetal position-

        how our hands
        have carved...

                                      now,
                                      our teeth will rest.

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