Sunday, May 13, 2012
stomp on the girl with cleats, step on her back and break it, she is what wiggles within your spine and saps it of dignity. sometimes strength is in your serenity, when your lips stand up taller than you. the corners of your mouth, the corners of the room, turning up turning over, not wrinkled and falling in. speak with your tongue, and not your teeth. you bite, you bleed me. you don't remember even though you were there. If you're going to be absent-minded, I'd prefer you were absent.
Tickle your toes. . .
In my dreams I am the fictional version of myself. The one I seek to be in my short-stories and prose. The one who gets her point across...