Sunday, October 18, 2009

that's not my name.

unzip me to find that my insides are fragranced dioxazine purple and yellow ocher. my complexion turned porcelain as my sun kisses fade, traced with the smoke of cooler cities sunken into my skin.
our words spilt into the recycled air over scratched compact discs: memory music we all reasoned listening. blue eyes reflecting in my rearview; a gaze perpetuated over an intimate and casual secret. nothing awkward, we all want more.

i really liked charleston.

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