| by Brad Eubanks |
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| (May 7th,,2007) |
| Betrayal is the last thing it is to play tongue
in cheek with a strange vibe in your pelvis, a handful of tokens in a room with four walls and one window where I use a hidden voice to say I love you. It's murder in here. You wait outside making eyes with the government workers, secretly mad. You conspire against me with your pleasant weather. The last thing I said to you was shut the fuck up and you didn't believe me when I said I was sorry. It's murder in here. It's betrayal out there. Betrayal isn't playing fingers with pretty faces. So please do not think of it as betrayal. Think of it as my endless love for you. Think of it as my dick sliding in and out of a mammal at forty times the speed of bad poetry. Think whatever you want, but please make the El Camino stop whispering. |
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| It was you who insisted my El Camino was haunted |