Monday, August 24, 2015


I will walk away from my vices
when I have the time, we say. I will stop
smoking on the way back from the breath
that is split between sunset and gutter

fuming with nothing. other than the
whiff of blended beauty and otherness
you feel the trees magnify
when you are held

I will walk away from my vices,
next month, next year
that never comes
it is easier to fall and never look back

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