Writing, Quoting, Missing
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One of the latest untitled poems in my drugbook - the black-velvet-covered blank book with black pages, crimson dragons drawn on them, in which I write only when I am not-entirely-sober - that seems quite appropriate to post just now.I've emailed you... and I'll be online for a while. I just got back from the doctor... I DO have a sinus infection, and I have a couple vicodin for after the... procedure... although Mana, if your offer still stands... PLEASE... Anyway. The poem. --- confusion --- misplaced daydreams the scent of leather and the memory of tears he has yet to shed my heart races my mind lost in a tangle of sweat and drughaze and his voice, begging he makes me hungry he sets my soul aflame still I am patient sharp knives cold words and my heart, my love, unlocked to see him bound is to be healed, happy, free
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