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r a p e

t o m    w r i g h t

You waft away when bold stands deteriorate and i know you're afraid.

i have always known it can be smelt
in your hair in
dead skin and cells
go on and admit your weakness

where were you in 36?
was it all a dream?

eclipsed subconscious,
obscuration of the internal eye by the satanic
a dislocation of sand but
reject all symbols!

listen to my confessions -

(The brick veneer so thin and delicate
but life the sordid canvas)

"fingerpainting is so much fun"
a litany i heard once waking from a sickness

warm fingers. Smell, taste and not learn the god-granted definition until the age of 12?

a tender adolescent. so very very eager.


you are on my digital camera
But only a pair of eyes.


© copyright 2004, tom wright, all rights reserved


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