On Mon, Nov 7, 2011 at 9:54 PM, Emily Newton-John <17.emily@gmail.com> wrote:

I wrote this poem today about your pretty eyes. Good luck and don't die.

Your eyes are two bright balls of opium stuck
by thumbs to a cut-out stuck with pins and needles that
fuzz like someone's buzzing body during
a day nap. He drinks tea made from
white sap sold at The Market every
Saturday.
I am a fainter. I pass out. Anyone can
download my brain because God forgot
the security software.
Eyes, I imagine (it's graphic), are
a diamond planet, pulsing under
the skin of our own milky way.