and pliable not brittle full of little
cracks
the days im like a ghost wandering through crowds
brittle creeps up
bitter creeps up to break me.
i keep my hands in my pockets.
i keep smiling.
my teeth ache from holding on
brittle full of little cracks
deep inside my pockets i clutch my keys
spare change
and bits of paper say i'm here
i'm fucking here
stomachs bitter creeping says
for what?
for the chance
to feel something
for the something i haven't thought of yet
for a supple bellowing laugh
to drown the bitter in sweet
Saturday, April 25, 2009
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1 comment:
Just beautiful. Thank you for sharing this with us.
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