puellarina's Diaryland Diary

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the bilge

Clouds keep rising
at the end of the play
with rain that's sharp
and gives them away
they want to spill
but they only boil
under my tongue
and with acid flavors
under my tongue
like under the soil
they curl into cottony seeds
and shed their damson grey
these words are only for me to say
but I want
I want
to just give them away.

11:05 p.m. - 2004-10-09

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