Saturday, August 26, 2006

none yet

cold, soft slithering on my feet
leaves falling on my face; so net
cool breze, green grass still wet
monarch on your hair, while you sleep

i got up to wash my face
saw my... a mark of a kiss
dove into the river to wash away
it didn't; you really bit me

went back to tickle your feet
you kick,victoria secret; none yet
you get up; we have to look for food
in the bushes; there's plenty of fruits

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