To the reader

Some thoughts, I cannot keep.

Thursday, September 13, 2012


I dread the stink of money.
When I find a pure thing, a perfect thing,
it is not long before it's delicate flavor
is ruined by money.

Many of my desires and fears smell of it. They equally reek.

How do I free myself from money?
In a world of so many empty mouths,
every crumb and drop has a price.

Death also reeks, and I would not have that either.
So I bathe in coins and smell of the world.

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