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Replying to a comment on:
Quiet Lakes (Free verse) by Fear of Garbage
Today I cleaned the windows
And found poison between the panes.
Mercury tinted, from a long thermometer.
I wonder if the site has spoiled me.
Any other would feel the same. Instead of dancing,
Getting drunk and throwing up,
There are imaginists. Pure bred. Mutt-hungry.
Filling it with Chinese food.
Selling Cocaine on the street corner,
sesame seeds and liquer between my teeth,
Queen Anne dead on my chest.
I like it here. I can read Korean
And all sorts of symbols that appear on my wrists,
Jewels, I live like royalty in the suburbs of the city.
Quiet lakes. Slake my thirst.
When I am on concrete, I cannot ask for my life.
I smell of a lake. Blue through the nose
And sour. The reeds have not been moving
At all tonight. Mute. I take out,
Drab and colorless,
A secret from under the pond.
My hands are deep.
Here are the jewels, the murdered, the senseless,
The secrets; they keep within them
Their bodies,
Arms and lungs. I want them. I forget them.
Even they cannot kill my thirst.
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