Thursday, October 25, 2012


I'm starting to hate these kinds of jokes,,,

It’s your bared teeth grinding against your smile.

Because I am unapologetically poetic I can’t help but imagine your motion in words, movements as verbs and personality in prose.

I could never rely on you, there is too much movement

Embrace me like the bracelets you wrap around your wrists like gauntlets, armor in that long fought battle against adolescence.

mouth to mouth bacon

I’m shaken by the tremor of your tenacity,  your goals are overlapping tectonic plates that can’t help but turn molehills into mountains

You’re turning somersaults inside

"How, I am not quite sure, but 'different', as the animal with the touch of human hands about him when he returns to the herd" --Sylvia Plath

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