-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
-
this is the sound of the snap lost grip of your other hand this is the way it feels when you are struck from behind in a wide open field of more pleasant possibilities this is what it tastes like when you accept defeat and stand smoldering on tarmac with a paintbrush and a gun and butterflies smell like hair when they flutter exhausted by and caterpillar viscera feels cool spring green between your toes when you are finally too tired to watch for the fragile too tired to tape up the cracks too tired to patch all the branch scratches this is where you knot your wild hair and chisel the marble in all the wrong places until finally it cracks deliciously In half.
2:55 p.m. - 2005-06-20
0 comments
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
previous - next
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|