Puke Poetry

Heart like a hand grenade, fully-automatic weapon for a mind.

Wednesday, August 15, 2007

One of Those Nights

it's the soft
and steady slap
of bare feet
on city summer concrete
it's screaming law enforcement
as soothing white noise
it's the coveted breeze
that only comes out
after two or three a.m.
we let the wind take our breath
so the words can't all spill out
we dine of the
uncertainties and guarantees
of youth
we dance like we're free
and sing til
there's not a sound left
in this world
and we love
like nobody's watching

it's the glass in my feet
and eight bruises on my legs
it's self inflicted
and unintended and unnoticed

i never wished i could fly
like i did that night
to escape from
where i wasn't
and couldn't be

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