coming in from cataract creek the paint is coming off the car
we can see black flakes in the rearview floating up towards
the pale sky - my mouth is a mess of open sores. you give me a
slow kiss, and let the blood and pus flow into yours

i pull away and touch your ear, your face your shoulder
your thigh - i look down at your bare foot pressing the gas
your shoes and the leftover booze and dope are in the trunk
ahead of us is just any other hour on the highway

i take my hand off your thigh and use it to turn up the
stereo and wipe the blood off my chin with the back of
my sleeve. no - i'm staring at you through wires thinking about then

there's more than flesh on this side of the chain link fence
,and the wires are bent so you don't catch your coat or cut open
your throat when you climb overtop under the dark red moon


Moi, j'avais jamais rien dit. Rien

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