January 05, 2005 | 6:57 p.m.
i dont need to be forgiven.

me too, i want to scream when my all my dreams are on repeat. when between knees are secrets still buried beneath the trees. and poems from the wires, like little boy booties, your bed time voice kicking me in mine. poems from the branches, like emptied nests, wet wood for our fires.

already extinguished.