Tuesday, November 13, 2007

/ Written on the Back of Hitch

to you my lost star
quietly waining in the
winter moon

light hurts my eyes after
a night of hard drinking

blending together the
sorrows of years past

Angst and sodomy combines
for a sweet taste

hearing and wanting; listen
to their needs

as the automobiles rust
and decay is commonplace

so the waste of your society
waits on the children's shore

needles and spoons litter
the earth but no one
leaves space for the
stockings to hang

nevermore does the quiet
ring so true

as when I wait outside
your window longing to
feel -- the dew.

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