inside my raptured mind
the demons speak in tongues
her song,her siren's song
I hear down the hall
she gigles like shadows
long and tall
one ceiling four wall
I turn the pillow
to the cool side
she is a hungry prayer
I hide
behind
everything burning
everything new/old
everything,everything,nothing
and fall on the belly
of an old woman
remembering her
whoring bird days
I want a steady earthquake
I want dry rain
I want to fuck every cross-eyed bastard
as I ponder about
the gods between us.
- Alfred Huete
03 November,2010
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