The Outer Floor

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Visuals are powerful as history itself,
As you, in his arms, or him in yours,
Frolic as if its Hell near the gates of Time.
But, it is sad really — Really,
It is more than really sad when I
Count the numbers dead; and others you
Really could have had:

Any number — so to speak in numbers —
Like in a call-in request show,
Where you stretch across in an easy form on bed,
Dial the easy number. You let them know:
This is the song I want — the song
Of which the words I know.

So, if you didn’t want me after
You have fucked me sore, you only had to slip in
Your jeans / skirt / shoes. Smile at the door.
Then, the door would open — normally doors of wood would.
But, that is not what you want — if you have
Really seen your eyes you would know — If you have
Sincerely touched your hair, your skin:
You are not your woman within.




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