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Sep. 22nd, 2008 | 12:44 am

i go about the day with tin claws,
scuttling along tile .



i am so much living, but i donot understand  it.
i have nothing to offer  you  but  my  bones.  
my prominent collar bones  shadowed by street lamps.    you can kiss them if you like.
i can offer you  my warm skin.
  it may stick to yours.

i may offer you my beating heart in a dark silvered  room,
to protect you from the loneliness of  damp sirens,
wail off into the night like loose demons.


i offer you the fragile things that are mine    for which i have no explanations of their initiation.
i offer to you the things i am made with.

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Comments {6}

Icarus

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from: little_luna_cat
date: Sep. 22nd, 2008 12:44 pm (UTC)
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You put my writing to shame.

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muckrakerrasure

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from: muckrakerrasure
date: Sep. 24th, 2008 10:05 pm (UTC)
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i think youre a great writer.

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manda

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from: may_came_home
date: Sep. 22nd, 2008 11:39 pm (UTC)
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killer last line
muchos kudos

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muckrakerrasure

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from: muckrakerrasure
date: Sep. 24th, 2008 10:07 pm (UTC)
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you know i love all of your writing .

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muckrakerrasure

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from: muckrakerrasure
date: Sep. 24th, 2008 10:08 pm (UTC)
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that ive read.

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manda

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from: may_came_home
date: Sep. 25th, 2008 09:09 pm (UTC)
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thanks lady ;)

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