:WARNING:I wish you’d warned me Before you walked right in At least maybe told me Perhaps filled me in.:WARNING:
Lost contactThere are no words In this sordid lullaby Only the melody of ages That have long since gone byLost contact
Times of sorrow And times of pain Times of weakness And time and time again
Running from the images That haunt my brain That’s where I now stand
Let sleeping dogs lie &n
Feeling like a clicheWalk on down to where the water flows Imagine it was the molten chocolate Pooling in the crevices of your heart Warming you through all the cold nights That is what my love is likeFeeling like a cliche
For you…
I'm not suicidal.Didn’t have a mirror today To wonder if I looked okay Poked myself in the eye With my mascara wand Dark liner dribbled down Marking streak lines down my face Little tears race between them The finishing line my chin Where they’d fallI'm not suicidal.
Only to be caught on my clothes Soaked into papers Destroying every last memo Now we’ll never know What I was dressing for.
hiddenI like dreaming about things that will never be Like being with Like losing in lips Like walking along old pathwayshidden
I suppose its just the child in me
I suppose its just the child in me I pose i ju t t il i su s s just the me I supp e &nb
Simple Things Work BestYour face clanging and crashing around in my mind, like someone attacking a sink full of dirty dishes.Simple Things Work Best
Clatter-bang rattle; muffled by detergent bubble mountains. Waving sponges and scourers like banners, brandishing
gleaming steel wool lumps; battering rams against stubborn nasties, wearing away soured emotions, baked-on scum and grease alike.
Solitary domestic frolicking keeping me out of my head and on my to-do list.
Hands thawing, mind relenting, focused on the universal repetition
batteries unincludedyou are an hour sixty minutes of sixty tickingsbatteries unincluded
in this hour is every word youve ever said
i have an old wrist watch my father gave me i say old, because five years is a long time when it is a quart of your life.
i use it to count you.
staring at the straight lines and reflecting the tubed light into a dancing circle on the wall a spotlight for an ant i imagine a woven straw hat and cane
and dancing, there was always dancing wasnt there? &nbs
Anyone, no?The rain sounds different now. In a way I can'tAnyone, no?
explain. There is just a staccato
missing another onomatopoeic place that I cannot find again. I think
Her lips were sticky with something akin to passion. Her lips were sticky Her lips were something akin to passion Her lips were s k in Her lips were &n
AH EDITING
Hopeless
--
"A maiden running from a Prince?...
Does that make sense?!"
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