Tuesday, July 31, 2012

A Miracle is like a Mirage or a Myriad of Imperfect Circles

Think of my mystery that I leave.
I give away less then what you believe.

Clumps of dirt are squirming,
perhaps they are filled with
They will break loose,
crawl toward your sleeping body
encased in plastic wrap.
All but your head is covered.
The maggots love to feast on eyeballs.

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