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and i walked into a bombed out church to pray to a broken down crippled christ on crutches with a sidecar for alms giving that you might return and i prayed to a bloody christ on a cross who didn't look merciful at all that you might call me someday and then my hands started bleeding the hole you left when you went away started bleeding anew and all the parts of myself i lost were phantom aches phantom limb syndrome after you amputated my life after you cut away everything that meant anything to me and now it's all gone but i'm still here and i can feel where it used to be i can feel what it used to be to be in love to be loved and to love but it's just a skeleton key for my closet and a ghost in the gleaming of a dying california dawn and i don't want to remember because it's another sentence i didn't deserve that never needed to be written or imposed or composed that is linguistically unsound that deconstructs itself and falls apart because you were never centered to begin with you tried to be the center of my universe the point which described and forced my orbits but i would sooner fly away from your sun than be subject to your bitterly cold light again nothing could ever thrive under it but everything was perfectly able to wither you made everything dry and left my throat parched i would have settled for cactus even if the thorns did prick but you left me with nettles for my thirst and i won't ever allow you the chance to quench it again i remember drinking in gulping images of you like a dog in summer and swallowing the memories that i might keep them forever that they might suffice when you left that i wouldn't ache like i do that i wouldn't still be thirsty for you and the nights you spent kneeled over me our mouths on each other that i wouldn't regret giving so much of myself to you but this drought just keeps going

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Last modified on Wednesday, March 26, 2008