Red Rot

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its such a trade off

i can sit here 3, 4 days old and lick the gray salt off my skin. and feel weathered and beached and burnt. parched and greased like pavement, but warm and satisfied.

or i can break past this lazy haziness to peel off layers and exfoliate angst and hurt and years, drowning my dirt and sorrows in scalding water. pink blushed cheeks peeking past tangled wet locks on a sweet smelling shampooed flower girl.

but i like both feelings, beached and reborn. and i never want to put my clothes back on.

1:07 p.m. - 2006-03-17

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