Jun 20, 2010


It's not Easter,
but i know
a couple that crossed itself
with darts
that reverse
I can tell by the
flat tires in your eyes
and the dead expressions
your unstoppable moaning
your incontrollable talking
i ask you to shut up
Roads run faster
the presence
detach from the carseat
and rain starts pouring
This is June.
See, i'm fond of gold
you're cold
like the that sailor drowned in your tears
You get influenced
and your limbs get fond of me
and we return to separate beds
this is Allen
you're no Annie Hall.
Waking up to understand
you were just dreaming backwards.

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