a project of skill-less and dead-author labor turned dead-text turned dead-reader, love affair with space, some cloud to influx information without regard for human eyes. &poetry
Wednesday, August 7, 2013
Ginger
Pulling on beads. Pearl necklace.
Moving like a whouse
after 24 hour, attract.
Red, with coded envy.
Beat sure of. Being under anything.
under, grateful hurries.
Fire shot, caught
lattices do shake
too far underweight.
Thursday, August 1, 2013
"And, I Mean, I Have This Much Left to Learn, and It Can Fix Anything, and I Need a Hug, It's the One Thing It Can't Fix...
With sister, Whole Foods, months ago, bathroom.
Left her alone. Out. Near imported cheese.
Bugged out Yogi dude. Eyes. Handstands. Eyes.
Pale, and glazed, and much like Flea’s.
He wants a hug. No. He needs a hug. Handshake.
She. Uncomfortable but willing. A sob story away.
Old, so old. And staring. I take one for the team.
Over-used. Texture. Describe the damage. Skin.
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