"It's like the kind of thing you'd sneak into a downstairs bathroom."
I'm swearing off Sadie
"...For the study and deeper exploration of the Lord my God!"
And
And
To regain some recollection of the old and odd
Sick, shambled mess,
[In a glorious
Floral head-dress]
That I was
Before Sadie explored the contents of my mouth.
"It's like lent..."
I say,
Except for the fact that I know it's permanent,
And I've never really understood
The concept of making promises to yourself
Because one of you
Always knows
The other person's lying.
So when he invites Sadie into the back seat of my car,
And ignites
Like its nothing to him,
I want the rubber of my boots
To jam itself into
The fragile barricade
That stands between
My agitation and
His brain.
My nostrils dance;
It is beyond my capacity to control them.
I contemplate a long walk home--
She smells too good.
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