I am a washer, you are
the village bicycle -
a local minimum; this is just
recreation. We are
just passengers,
with no morals to be found.

[RIGHT]Was she Greek or
Spanish or
French or

All of the snow 
makes me feel Christmas-y.
When will it end? Primitive universe,
talk to me!

Intellectual mortality
stops me from drinking -
stops you from licking
the semen stains from my carpet;
I never understood why
such a fetish would hunt me at night.

I found identity in procreation:

No moan is a person’s property.
No body is a foregone conclusion.
I kiss with one eye open
to keep away the amnesia. 
Last edited by Bleed Away at May 17, 2016,