it's like having spirits come down on me
when I think about him,
gathering clouds in his darkened eyes--
low brooding summer thunderheads--
who has seen that
ghost-wolf mask before? wasn't it
in my dream yesterday, & isn't it
me when I look at him now?
his laughter is dirty & rare &
desirable as ripe, icy-green gooseberries.
still feeling pretty bad, but I wanted
to post this too, just to get a look
at it on this board. I love the way the colored
words look on the black background....
welp, gotta go puke now....
Sphinxmoth
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