writhe and quiver
with the dead inside
this thing inside
this beautiful inking thing
cools the burn
loosens the quiver
like some men
pig in shit
like some man
bull in china
ripped hair
till it jumps of its own will
the mess of the throat
a mystery of mucus
i can breathe now
because my pen told me to
the desire to say
the desire to live
save them
care for them
reborn again?
oh
these?
understand, i thought i'd be fine
my goodness, i was not
i think i can bring it back around
like shitty similes and metaphors for things that revolve
oh, i thought i'd be fine
very much so
even now, i know i can be
young never called itself that
old never wanted to be
understand, i thought i'd be fine
and i'm pretty sure we're going to be
Thursday, December 8, 2011
Friday, September 30, 2011
Sunday, September 25, 2011
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