Monday, June 8, 2009

Tongues

Sitting for sounds
this city is spitting
like some falling
from mouths

I just want to hear 
the wet I can know
what I'll sound like
melting for you

Meet me in moisture
Slinking through sewers
meet in the gutter

Somewhere sitting
in soil sucked dry
by the sun I'll
send you the
quicksand and
we'll meet in 
the center

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