What rawness is exposed when you let your truths show? What sense of beauty unravels as your imperfections travel past expectations and into the concentration of a person with no worries.
By 6 years ago in Poets
On the floor or risen to high heaven You undress me, Caress me, Feel my skin with bedbugs and dreams Rest my head unleashing teams...of thought
My pores are deeper then your medicine bottles, but you cant see that. Your medicine bottles, Shallow Used, Like my heart, Touched.
I grew from something small Didn't know much, but watched and peered at knowledge to grow and thrive I grew from something small
I don't peer over and focus on you because i know my pupils will be deep moons and confess what i don't want them to. I don't open my eyelids and let in light
From both angles i stare From one angle you talk I see every detail Every, last, unfolding detail emerges as my other personality moves to a new viewpoint.
Frosted glass conceals our secret Well....yours. I guess i cant tell mummy About our secret Well....yours. You scary little vulture
So so feeble. Her hair puffy, wet like rain clouds So so fragile Her skin, paper thin. She is a map, her veins the roads to memories.
They move their legs so subtly. They avoid eye contact as if my focus is not deprived. They alert all they know to avoid any confrontation.
We breathe And breathe our breath back in We steal our own oxygen We all, imprison, ourselves. We live, not where we choose, but where seems comfortable.
Eyelids peel like burnt circus posters. Lips twitch, they are yawning motors. What energy is there left to give? When all that is given is returned with no necessities to live
"Breath!" In in in... "Please breath out" ... out "Fuzz your focus" My cornea is shaking blurred lines is all I'm taking.