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November 10, 2008

Absconding with a Tapestry

My match is to my shoe
I'm lit
Like a half rack of ribs
roasting on a spit

I'm stung I sting there is salt in my eyes
I'm listening closely to the wind whistling by
Hold me close and say a sweet prayer
that I'll stay right here and that I'll go nowhere

I crave your attention
and that desire attenuates
my desire to abscond
and vacate this forsaken state.

What I do is for the both of us
the you in us the me in us
While Im so far away
I'll just try to keep it rightous
And while I sit here down about the way the world works
I'll retain and remember that no matter how it hurts
That I do this for the both of us.