gutterhome

insolent hymns

Tuesday, April 24, 2007

untitled

I am three bottles.
I am the way you want things.
I am six wrappers and the floor.
I am more than not a poem;
I am defiantly unpoetic.
I am not so old anymore.
I am that special sick feeling of bone-cracking.
I am storebought.
I am peeled.
I am leaving your lover.