Monday, July 13, 2009

a small frog lodges itself in my throat. a dry scream. a call for help.
wide-eyed and worthless,
what will you do?

sleep now. close your eyes and then puff your way into my lungs.

lay there. lie and lie. do not open your mouth.

I die. You know I could. And you would die too, grafted into my skin,

my cells, my awkward limbs, the unfortunate body which

has to move and convince a stranger I am worthy of love.

little green monster, tiny hidden peek of rumbles and soft skin

I repent, I take it back, open your lips and tell me

I am a bright piece in this awful wreckage.

and tell those others, please tell them,

they have no business here.

I do not want them anymore,

or ever again.

written sunday night.
today is tewzday (it's really not monday)
tomorrow will be windzday.
& on & on & on.

(buzz for a cliche)
-coll, this is a reminder that something was
here, that you need to remember, but don't
need to type out in full-


Jay Roe said...

a good read...

...its all happening...

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