Davy Jones

February 12, 2008
By
A photograph of your dripping face
Blanketed across each fissure of my brain
With each emotion a fountain of cloudy color
Different from any other
Pleasure pours itself from a faucet
Swirling like a typhoon down the bathtub's drain
Let's get these seeds into the ground
Before the winter is arranged
Do you miss the sound of the marching band?
The silent music she conducted in your mind
And do you feel damned
For noticing it's absence?
I am water formed into a human's shape
Watch the current wrap around my face
I drown myself in your disappearance
I turn my hands slowly cursing them for your escape





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