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david badgerow Nov 2011
wrapped up in aluminum foil
head resting on cracked concrete
surrounded by winking lights
and blinking eyes
warmth from the glow of humility
basking in the rays of a two dollar toaster
cardboard dwelling and trashbag scenery
paper towel t-shirt, styrofoam socks
salt and pepper lunchtime
pedastal reconstruction
hot coffee burnt tongue
peanut allergy and poisoned water
locked cabinet, rotting condiments inside an unplugged refrigerator
dying romance read only in magazines
purple heart scrawled on my arm
syringe full of bourbon plunged directly in my eye.
david badgerow Nov 2011
hi, how are you today?
i've broken every bone in my hand
writing you this letter
i've hidden away every past mistake
in the cushions of your puke green sofa
every broken promise from an ingrained diety
coffee cups and cutlery that i keep
as monument to one night spent with you
a thousand killing smiles and a hundred stolen kisses
i bend my knees and take a shot of clarity
the outline of dreams and IOUs
the place where awkward belongs
the sign of recovery hides in a dimly lit alley
***** and hungry and lonely and desperate.
david badgerow Nov 2011
I have been buried in a flowering sofa
I have been buried in punk rock guitar
I was swimming in a sea of orange juice
I wish I believed in unicorns and innocence
I wish my roots ran deeper
I was ******* us over in the middle of November
I was in way over my head
I have a cramp in my side-stomach
I have terrible sleeping habits
I have been carried by prophets up hills of redemption and
I have spent Sunday afternoons with ****** in basements
I have spent days huddled around burning xmas trees
I have a mind that suggests disease, and is riddled with laughter
I have drifted directionless on an autumn breeze
I have prayed to the gods of ***, before and after
I have been tossed about on shapeshifting seas.
david badgerow Nov 2011
i emerged from a dark cave
a hole in the ground by a tree
bare feet dragging behind me
dressed in shreds of cotton and silkworm fibers
wearing dirt on my cheeks and twitching hands
i was drenched in sweat and malnutrition
david badgerow Nov 2011
there is a ****** on a street corner in a long white jacket
i have descended into a red velvet basement
i have kissed the new generation of buttocks, eyes & tender *******
there is a slow black river flowing under a soft gray bridge
and i have kissed the mist
mob of penguins hands out ecstasy
i slipped ******* into space needle
i cut a white line through puffy sky with a razor's edge
i rode a flaming bicycle through the center of your heart
1000 hands clap in simultaneous ******
i touched my finger to my forehead salute
i touched the hurricane with lighning bolt
i touched your revolution with intention
i touched your trembling hand with reassurance
i touched your shaking head with my soft wet heart
david badgerow Nov 2011
i was a simple grain of sand
on a beach
but i did not get caught up in your sandal.

i was a shining star in the sky
but i did not fall
and you did not wish upon me.

i was two hands outstretched
but you did not run to me
and i did not hold you tight.

i was a crumpled newspaper
wrapped up in a homeless man
but you did not find warmth in me
and you did not give me your extra change.

i was half a bottle of bourbon
that you've been staring at for days
and now you drink me in,
and now i'm in your mouth.

i was a pair of transplanted eyeballs,
if only you could see the way i do.
david badgerow Nov 2011
i remember one time when we stood
with our bare backs to the sunrise
and our eyes fixed on a bluebird,
as stiff and as still as scarecrows, we stood
in rolled-up pant legs and nothing else
in the grass and let the dew cry onto our feet,
we sang to the bluebird at the top of our lungs
and he sang back, a much prettier song.
with tickled toes and flushed cheeks, our Mothers
watched from the porch as we held the sunrise in our hands.
we lifted it up with our strong twelve year old arms
and we brought it Home to them.
this is a memory i have with my cousin. he won't read this, but i hope he feels it.
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