25 of 31. 2011

I don’t have faith in the poison,
the phone is cracked in half
held together with medical tape
we are all dying
the New York Times tells stories
about the Middle East
that obsucre mouthful of a place
of places
I remember the tea with lots of sugar
fresh mind
I don’t have faith in the poison
but smoke curls like a lover around
the neck
the revolution is getting bigger
the tents have been pitched
I’m the 99%
I don’t have faith in the poison
but my voice echoes back
the same story
each time

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About amyleighcutler

Writer, dancer, vagabond extraordinaire
This entry was posted in 30 in 30, Food, Poetry and tagged , , . Bookmark the permalink.

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