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He plays on me like I were a fairground,
I am sun-stained
he is hard.

To me,
there is being dead
and there is being alive twice --
give me your pulse, give me your alive --

I am either empty
or full as a ferris wheel at night.

I don't say that sometimes I cannot fit in
the carousel rides
or that sometimes the carousel rides

won't fit in me. He
takes my heart and puts it on the swings.
There is a face at the very bottom of this sea
coral, shells cupping her cheeks
loved the beach
so much she wanted to put waves in her hair, wanted
to be part of the universe that
                                   requires no legs.

For all we know, the oceanfloor
could be the sky
of some other universe
and swimming fish make up the cosmos.

                                                   Saltwater burns


                       the sea
                               so you can see.
http://m.wikihow.com/Unhook-a-Bra

Pinch the eyelets but oh so gently,
To properly unhook the device to safely release paradise
From it's containment chamber.
This be one of many secrets to unlocking
The mechanism that holds some of the happy things
The human body artist conceived
To perpetuate the
Species.

According to the internet,
To extract joy to the world correctly,
Depends upon both your station and your
Positioning.

Thus, it helps to have GPS,
Which most men think is that pointy thing
Between their legs,
But is not.

Given the laws of gravity,
And other natural limitations,
Sadly that utensil of little avail
In this surgical operation.

If one desires to release the tension
Between the connectors of the protectors,
Guardians of her heart,
It will be necessary to
Let your fingers do the walking.

So cut and paste the title above,
In your web browser place!
Do your homework or risk feeling
As petite as a schnauzer.

Seems your natural tendency,
Righty or lefty, matters in this endeavor,
Of which I was unawares, oft pressing the incorrect lever.
This, the likely cause of my spectacular
Teenage
Fumblings and failures.

Had I known that fact,
In the days before the Internet,
Surely I would have brought along my
Catchers mitt
To step up my game.

Sage advice the article provides:
Get a bra, and practice, practice, practice!
It gets easier with experience.


But methinks that is a bit of a
Risky adventure,
Lest you be seen boy,
Practicing upon yourself,
Or even a dummy,
Dummy!

So cut and paste the title above
In your web browser,
Do your home work or risk feeling
As petite as a pocket schnauzer.

But the most important tip
This wealthy article of information provides,
The conclusion.

In the hour of your desperate struggle,
Drooping
Ego
And
Crushed
Pride,
Ask for assistance from one more practiced,
Hopefully nearby,
Whose help usually comes with a charming smile
of touching condescension
For your male idiocy and verbal in-articulation.

She, unawares, that you have got her
Positioned precisely where you want!


For when you lift her up,
In a free state, the one Divinity intended,
and in your arms, enfolded and protected,
In one grand poetic gesture,
Sweep her off her feet,
Her surprise will be

..
O

So Touching!
No comment.   Nah changed my mind. If you ain't smilin or laughing by now, you need to practice
doing that as well!


Go to

**http://m.wikihow.com/Unhook-a-Bra**

Further research on the subject as suggested by a reader:
Names of Bras - see  http://shop.lululemon.com/products/clothes-accessories/women-sports-bras/Itty-Bracer?cc=4528&skuId;=3503835&catId;=uswwearit1

My fav is Ta Ta Tamer
Souvenir/To Remember

Je me souviens innocence, but not what it feels like anymore.
Just that first french kiss, enough to do my childhood in.

Tu te souviens buying your first bra.
Unsure of whether to wear it or not.
Confused about the clasp and all its pregnant meaning.

Il se souvient collecting kisses blown from his mother.
Storing them in mason jars covered in stickers.

Elle se souvient picking watermelon from her daddy's garden.
Rolling them inside when they weighed more than her.

Nous nous souvenons keeping secrets from our loved ones.
Waiting for God to punish us.
Living with the guilt that followed.

Vous vous souvenez a time when the appendix was not just vestigial.
Remember a time when you did more than med school.

Ils se souviennent the night they met.
On a segregated 8th grade dance floor.
Their cheeks red from all that not asking.
you exhale softness, and
I have cold hands
the moths have to gather under my nails.

it was once supposed that
swallowing gum would make your intestines
stick together, that
is why I shared my piece with you
one day.  you said you had an idea, soon
we both smelled of cinnamon.

wet, sticky cinnamon
please glue your insides to me, I thought.

I threw up in July, exhaled
you.

I needed to, so I could write about how I get
so sad sometimes
so empty
my hands are cold but my
heart almost always has a fever.
Arouse me gentle
Caress me to the sweetest sensation
Pour me your love that i cared
Hug me
and
Kiss
me
gently

my


*L
O
V
E
Haven't write for awhile
been busy in school and stuff

August 27,2013
 Aug 2013 Michael Valentine
JL
night creates a certain pressure
i hope you won't pick up
dealing forever with that old
scratch scratch on the back of the skull

receptors burnt blacker than the bottom of a spoon
Welcome scars that cannot be covered
i see your eyes
don't even try to avert
or hide the disgust
nose held so high like
you haven't found a way to **** yourself too
Tell me your secret
I can appreciate it

little ****
little poke
constant sting singing:
I am the rehabilitation
the lightbulb still flickers in the basement
when i'm not there

i love you jacob  
so you can't go back
You can't go down jersey ave.
or even take okechobee
You can't slip between the cracks anymore
You've become solid full of atmosphere
still weak but the sun

Clean Waste
the tops of the hands are
treasure maps in circles leading
to the same old footprints
i am free so I take deep breaths for the hell of it
each time i see the crease of your knee
Purity
each word that falls from your lips
salvation
i don't need anything because i am more alive than a thousand poems unwritten
i am 20 years old and the next pill i touch will **** me
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