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18 May 2011

offshoot

sometimes that prettiness
I can't touch it
the one you hear in love songs (and feel in feathers)
serated edges
sharp teeth
blood drawn
skin pulled
tight
where's the realness
my realness
the shape
the weight
my gravity
my own
unique
alchemy
I smell the dust
and ash
of other people thoughts
and I steal them
I eat them
I wonder
I think
too much
in too many directions
wash me in the river
clean
with my own thoughts
alone

1 comment:

Madame Sweetcheeks said...

Eating the dust and ash of other peoples' thoughts--brilliant!