21 Aug 2013, 3:04pm
Writing
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In the room with you called heaven

There are owls and elephants,
and termites. The whole foundation rots.
Somebody is calling for the police,
which turn out to be angels.
They are sad, setting us up for failure,
sticking us out here on the porch together.
I am claustrophobic from all this (pointless)
openness. / I need to get drunk.

The house (is) at the beach
and there (is) a big party upstairs…
angels (are) being naughty. / I told a lie.
Hold my drink, no don’t hold it,
hold my hand, jump off the ledge with me
in the water.

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