sunday evening
litte bit of joy
blanketed later with a voice stripped of all recognition
my own all too clear in the room of only me
clutter all about
and mine the only arms to warp around myself to feel better
i am behind on everything
from the tiniest cell to the entire expanse of the universe
that's all for now
these are like bird dropping journals
fit for a pidgeon perched on a balcony
creating a sculpture of white poop
VIEW 7 of 7 COMMENTS
linz:
or like, beautiful lady journals creating little tid bits fo all but not revealing too much of the soul.
moondust:
r u spanish?
