Tuesday, June 1, 2010

Flawed Facet

Swallowed morning sighs lie
wiggling in the air above
my face in the dawn,

they are the ozone
from my afterburner mind
venting it's two cents,

a brain pulsing bent,
twisted by various nicks
icepicked to a limit,

by old blisters licked
constantly revisited,
I'm cut to the quick.

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