Thursday 4/12/2012 12:21:00 AM

thumb the mire. kick the moat. stubborn aliens in her oatmeal. fail to wake her. touch is a dismal stopwatch for how fast we've run. empty tents sleep the servants of songs no one hears. heavy buckets spill weighted truths. memory is a poor measure of how far we've come.

the mind is a blackened mirror. Heavy arrows bend the bow. the future is paper. the past is lead. now is flesh. our only chance to feel something.

little pigs basting in their beds. succulent with sin. petulant protagonists is this manic mediocre tragedy. purple priors with their pants around their shins. the winter's thick tongue lapping at dwindling grass. the stab of the hunger. Rising up from where she began. Pitchforks and puppets. Testing the stretch of confusion.

the poetry of want. still undecided.

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