TALES OF AN ORANGEPEELER
an archive of pleasures, wounds, sublimations & other curiosities :: profile
06.17.04, late thursday night
Doubt, my friend, we must part for if we continue along this worn path I will have to break some bones.
Dog me the course shadow- darkened, I'll never see
the forks the mice in the grass the pawprints of large cats these subtle menaces what is apparent and not.
If you stay, I will walk to disaster: constant crimson epidermal breakouts, unrequited
ideas, worry-knotted brow and muscles, woozy night-visions day-old villages burning til dawn.
Other friends have gone before you. Go away like trashy magazines, boozy nights, bad teeth, too many donuts before lunch.
Go now, with my past's tristesses lest I must bludgeon you with a rolled up sheaf poems one ton each a times new roman titanic.
And not just you, Doubt, I'd betray; if I was Robespierre, I'd guillotine Regret today!
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