Friday, March 15, 2013

After Tones

A slip down the slope
shreds and tares skin
like the other times before
we melt the penny
and the copper burn me.

You ruined my smile
with a bruise to the cheek
yet did not kill the flower
or was it so sour?

Let us visit a brothel
and have us some fun
kick around our wild feet
until we grow tired
of the booze and blood.

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