plagaristance:
poem
#9
murder
in
a field that
never knew existed.
i lve
crime and chas.
kill the fields of glen
understanding. haunt the memories of never wanting.
like the way the feathered
hair falls abut your nice fat
head.
as yur head rlls dwn
the hill...
after a while
the crck--dial
becomes anther
spt sundial
and after nns
become the rms
an everyday with
mnster runes
it's nt
like it was befre
like with evil snow storms
and ut the
rain indr
like it takes away my frms
when it all cmes
this time
i kill the sun with guns
i tell nothing about the
sign
anther thing:
the ther nes
kill
the mn with a paper cut
6-9-97 -artn