A line in the sand that bears your footprint.
A fork in the road that's two ways to wrong.
A framed photo of an absent guest.
Speech-notes that never leave your pocket.
A drowning swimmer in a dried up sea.
A ghosting fox in a forest of rustling thoughts.
Sheets still tangled in last night's sleep
The seep of water between slippery fingers.
The stuck hands of a stopped clock.
The monster wearing in your worn reflection.
The hand that leads down tree-lit streets when the night aches too brightly to put on companied stillness.
Saturday, December 15, 2012
I'm bad at vulnerability I like to tie off places Where mess might hide Might wander in to introduce themself Until I'm all kn...
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She shares the blame For Adam's fall So secure, attractive Brilliant in a certain view The essence of Enlightenment I see her raise her ...
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To slumber And not be tossed about Like an incomplete formula In the mind of a mathematician Is a good thing The solution Lies in reme...
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Late It's practically done, more or less Plus or minus it's my best Effort if you squint and side-eye It. I'm sure it will get b...
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