5.17.2010

shoot the hunter.

god, it reeks of kerosene in here
& my boots are dirty with the wet earth
& i burn cigarettes down,
dangerously close to my flammable lips.
my hands are callused & my insides
just as much.
punch me, square in the gut,
as hard as you can.
i'm not asking, i'm telling.
is that all you've got?
i have to sit down.
i have to put all your clothes on
& walk around this room until i find myself
downstairs.
then this dizzy head will finally know where i am.

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