~ a dry season in hell ~

~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

in a statue moment
your blue eyes chisel mine
into dead stone. cold.

~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

how private can one be
when there are too many people
- involved -
in the need to hide?

~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

read between the eyes
read between the thighs
spell-check everything.

~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

so many versions
of yr copyrighted heart
a black market sell-out

~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

so many versions
of yr copyrighted lies
faked truth? true fakes?

~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

bootlegging my heart
too many boots
& not enough leg.

~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

bootlegging yr heart
thirst satisfied
no moonshine in tow.

~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

i know what you’re thinking
when you read between my eyes.
a semi-automatic is about to fire
at what the future holds.

~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

when you reach the point
where words are used
to demarcate the empty space
between basic needs and human instincts,
& emotions ring deadly hollow
like corroded signposts
on the wrong road
to the real life
you know- it’s time to change the map.

there, i said it. now you know.

~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

killing me softly & in style
is your brand name
and i hate both words:
‘fashionable’ & ‘homicide.’

~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

so glad you’re back to yr usual self
which i never knew so well
water under the bridge
water in an empty well.

~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

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