Whore
Forrest

How I want to tear your trees away, your
paper sheets crouching on the unsaid and my
arms not enough my hands
not enough to tie or fray. See:
we were sitting on the side
of the stretch and the car
wouldn't go. You were talking
about forgiveness. See! I wanted
to yell in your face. See! Yellow
line zipping by the mirror
not enough to hold both
my mouth and it. You go on acting
like you wanted broken
things. Mills churning and stripping
as you keep spitting, turning
every word and every switch away.