i think in fingerprints and teeth,
in skin and lips,
i'll try remember better, sir,
rubber wrists, a vial?
a concrete sore on the flesh of the earth,
eats away at the world til it's aching
all over - muscle turns to dust and
the clocks self-destruct, i bought a
fake bouquet -
i know the day the month the time,
but i don't want -
is there some medicine for this?
some blue and green, some bitter
taste? a stitch or two, some sleep, some
time to grieve, just something
psychology and torture?
yes we do hang draw and quarter, pop your brain
down over there and i will see
what i can do, take two at night, come back
next week -
about this fire
in my tongue, how much longer will
it last? these days i speak smoke
signals no one knows and how
i'm looking white, i'm
burning up -
some time down
in the ground and
write it out,
don't be a
(dandelions for eyes, scatter them wide)
Amazing! Better than what I've ever done.
I've read a few and your writing is frankly evocative beautifully prosed can't wait to read more
Can I please just borrow your muse for a bit? I promise I'd give it back....eventually.
"dandelions for eyes, scatter them wide" Some how just caught me, You're an amazing writer!
bitch you got bit in the ass by one hell of a muse.
Wow this is awesome!