"-- and the incandescence of your skin
crackles like the paper at the tip
of a drawn-on cigarette and dies
in a final fluttering of ash--"
-Craig Arnold

Poetry Prose Junk

ethereal-delusions:

We come ever closer.
Just to             Run a million miles a p ar t.
And now I bang my head against the wall.

I pray that I could f
                               A
                              l
                            l
D
O
W
N

To the asphalt and never be revived.
I never want to hear the words ,”but I s u r v I v e d.”

Posted October 23, 2012 with 4 notes VIA Origin
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    This is awesome.
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