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Literature Text
A woman from the east divined the worms
That I ate were high in bad cholesterol
I turned to The Fuzzy One for confirmation
She was too busy eating them herself
We all walk different paths together
Or sometimes the same ones apart
Eating worms in the darkness of night
Waiting for the sun’s breath to warm
The Frenchman smoked his cigarette
And ate his worms all so nonchalant
I went looking for the Brass-Toothed Journeyer
And the Wandering Poet in a boxcar
To find what had meaning that could be defined
To see the view from the top for a change
Jay the Street Poet just shook his head
And the Lance of wisdom stayed silent
A lady with bees in her bonnet debriefed us
Before we could travel, we must have a song
I’d already tired of the idea of leaving
We all went for tea and earthworms
That I ate were high in bad cholesterol
I turned to The Fuzzy One for confirmation
She was too busy eating them herself
We all walk different paths together
Or sometimes the same ones apart
Eating worms in the darkness of night
Waiting for the sun’s breath to warm
The Frenchman smoked his cigarette
And ate his worms all so nonchalant
I went looking for the Brass-Toothed Journeyer
And the Wandering Poet in a boxcar
To find what had meaning that could be defined
To see the view from the top for a change
Jay the Street Poet just shook his head
And the Lance of wisdom stayed silent
A lady with bees in her bonnet debriefed us
Before we could travel, we must have a song
I’d already tired of the idea of leaving
We all went for tea and earthworms
Literature
spitting seeds
I spit a watermelon seed in your eye
and you laughed.
Silly boy.
You eclipsed the brazen midday sun
and were surrounded
by a halo of light.
I was chilled in your shadow
and you screamed of heat.
My moth to your flame.
You chased me round the yard
and spit an army of seeds right back at me...
in rapid fire.
Literature
Husks of the Past
Yellow Jacket flannel hangs
in the back of my closet,
an active memory hive.
I put it on sometimes,
deep pockets engulfing me
and buttons pressed to my skin
like a threat.
A trace of your cologne
still lingers,
the promise of spring
snatched away too soon.
I dream of being suffocated;
it always smells like you.
Literature
proprioception
she claims
that you can spot virginity in the curve
of the hips.
i tell her
you can't see chastity in the way
the ilium crests, unless you fucked hard enough
to break it.
she smiles,
shows me the bruises carved into her bones,
traces the way his fingers held her-
what if you're already broken
to begin with?
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I'm a cholesterol of truths
and kindness
And this
And that feel write
I've kissed snails to make a princess
And been bested
My favourite death
Was one of sun shone gumshoe detectives
On black and white TV
Polarized in polaroids
Hemorrhoids for for the blind of thorny bullshit
and kindness
And this
And that feel write
I've kissed snails to make a princess
And been bested
My favourite death
Was one of sun shone gumshoe detectives
On black and white TV
Polarized in polaroids
Hemorrhoids for for the blind of thorny bullshit