Climb the highest mountain, punch the face of god


I attempt to write you long letters
That I give to you but you never receive,
So I'll burn the leftovers,
And refuse to write you anymore.

Those letters, where do they sit?
Upon so heap in your room?
Or under a collection of filth?
Will you ever respond?
Or am I forever unanswered?

I will not give you this fodder
As I always get blown off.

It's as though it never happened.

August 7, 2006

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