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Tori Mar 2013
Our words are flecked with phosphorous
Lighting the search of a changed beach
The ferry approaches us timidly
Inhaling the smoke drift wood fire
Before tracing her route back
twice around the island
Before we eventually leave
Curiously eyeing us from afar each time
Strange sand creatures to her and
Almost strangers ourselves
Cigarettes and alcohol bleaching
shifting changing our past
into something we
laughed about
Tori Feb 2013
It’s been a while

Your hair has creeped back and exposed the top of your head and your eyes change color a lot but maybe they always did that its been a while.

The conversation lapsed in on itself again 
and David had fallen asleep,
To dream about smoke stacks reportedly,
And had left us alone with
all the conversations and laughter and arguments of the last eight years that we never had
Reverberating off the windows and leather seats and dissipating into radio static
I asked how to switch to AM and
You were surprised although
I was just being nostalgic for days when we'd wait in your car on cold mornings and I was too young to understand anything
I awkwardly admitted that i just felt like
hearing some one talk
And you fiddled with the **** thing for too long before you picked one
and after a minute
it became horribly apparent to us both that the topic of the morning was "dead beat dads"
Tori Feb 2013
Rorschach test for knees
Lovingly kissed by chairs, tables
Ten word
Tori Feb 2013
There is an incarnal contradiction manifested
when you coerce your finger through a ring and
physically evoke what you repress
An ironic left hand dominance
draws a constant attention to things
undesired and yet you
seemed vexed by my
unconscious stare
While your hands scurry to hide
and play with themselves
In their discomfort at
becoming part of my awareness
I wish I was drunk or stupid enough to ask
If you can guess what I'm thinking
Tori Feb 2013
I cant help but privately lament for those who
share that piece of my autograph because
It's a senile old thing
Hardly used and
rarely left untouched by monikers
Composed of four misgiving syllables
And now being sadly echoed
By a dumbfounded lover
Who really should of known better than
to fall in love with a girl
whose names a lie
I don't know
Tori Jan 2013
The trash day crows
Call at me
Condescending hunger
dragging my moccasins up the drive
Public transit and public speaking
Disagree with the
ads and magazines in my left hand
My phone
screen fractured this morning
The dust confined in my pocket
Coffee in my right like gunpowder

I pause and linger
for the mountains

Thinking of something you said
I laugh
shuffling words
puzzled by this mood I'm in
Tori Dec 2012
There is a Japanese man
living inside me
Who walks bare foot across my soul
dazed and
mumbling to himself
In language i dont understand
He doesnt bother me
so i permit him
to sleep on my heart
spectate my dreams
and eat whatever
ego he can find
Although i can tell
he is not happy
here
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