Thursday, October 20, 2005

A Mutual Hatred of Philosphy Majors

I only care about
the slime beneath me.
Without it,
I may have to touch the ground.
My feet never knew the tar
and i love the back fat
that has denied them that.

I never met a mouth that my spit couldn't laminate closed.
I never took a lash without retorting with a wrist.
I am a savant when it comes to creating coincidence.
Love is my knowledge of the rejection that awaits.

There is something purifying
about realizing
that no one is listening.
I've made a life
out of not knowing what that is.


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