There aren’t many verbs left
I talk too much
Used them up
Do too much
My limbs are just quaking
At the chance to work up a froth
 
The vacuum will colonize you
If you don’t break the seal
Crack your knuckles
That’s a lie
I say at every bedtime
My excuse for being so inexcusable
 
I don’t smile the right way
Or maybe too late
And they leave me thinking
That’s one hell of a sad bitch
Walled off in adobe and sloppy pitch
See how the snow slides down her
Muddy veneers
 
Her ankles are blue
But her eyes are
Hazmat, gazes poison
and plague at every breathing thing
I’m a curse
A stretch mark
Growth has made me ugly

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Danny Price
about 3 years

"I don't smile the right way
Or maybe too late"

Fantastic piece, viscerally emphasized in those two lines.

Robert L. Martin
about 3 years

A little extra added to the usual Bible story. Very good

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Cory Garcia
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