The sun's still out my head's in the heels of my shoes
I'm surprised I can even dress myself

And though I stand here lonesome
I lift my eyes from the ground
upto those birds that spiral novel uncharted shapes in the blank sky.

Me I'm still bleeding I just don't get to bleed on you now
How lucky for us both
To look back and forgive and forget as we please  and bless sweet nothings in and out of nothingness and choose whether we could or couldn't care less
Nicotine laced condensation scratches the window too blurry to see anything but my face
Though I only see it from the outside when looking back
Jester-like like the black cat's white-outlined grin
before crying to be let in and out of the rooms as he pleases
I know you spend as you get but can't you account for anything at all?

     I'm nibbling my wrists those birds are all I've got to lick the wounds
And I can only care for them so long as they still want me to look at them

And you
You sit with so much on your mind have you really just nothing to say?

I've met you several times but we only spoke that one time, didn't we?

You just took a couple draws from my cigarette and we were both happy enough to leave it at that

If I saw you in the street I may assume the identity of my doppelganger
  I'd still like to call her over to mine someday if I were able to but that's not something I dwell on
You're just the reason I'm starving I wouldn't pay me no mind in your spot either
Sweet-thing

You aren't worthy of another promise I would've been happy if I could've only atleast had them left to keep
I'd rather crash literal breakneck speed before speaking to you again and you know that by now, don't you?

Fog falls light from small mountains it looks faint but it imposes it's presence to-be
threatening to cover our faces heavy enough to stain our clothes

It beckons those pretty birds to be among the first to rise and
be engulfed

I'm stuck to the ground sweetthing with my eyes falling back down,
My feet are heavy as stone but I can't afford to get tired waking up so late into the day.

Read me your words
I am yet to hear them
Knowledge to be absorbed...

Yet of the unknowns,
There's a fear within.

when poetry will die
the apocalypse of the soul will erupt in each of us
my being made of lyrics
will get lost in contemporary illiteracy,
our daily food will be missing from the shelves in the libraries
and virtual pages will replace the smile of the sweet girl from my favorite bookstore,
I will no longer cuddle the book covers made with good taste
and I will no longer breathe stories that hide behind them,
thinking will become limited by a collective sentence
which will swallow me
and devour my last remaining metaphor,
then amnesia will make a nest in me
and I'll beg it never to leave me!

I didn't get much schooling so I can't read or write.
Many people don't understand my situation and plight.
I thought I was buying sugar but I bought salt.
My cake made people puke and it was my fault.
When I drive, I can't read stop signs so I always crash.
Over thirty people have sued because of whiplash.
When I was seven, Dad wouldn't let me go to school anymore.
When a person can't read or write, it closes so many doors.
I can count to ten but I have to use my fingers and thumbs.
And if you actually believe I can't read or write after reading this poem, you are dumb.

But! little did they know...
Seriously,
they didn't know much
Illiteracy prevents them

Let's watch the fights see who wins
***** politicians quack doctors spin
I will sue you in court of law
My sneaky lawyer will find a flaw

Get off my property or I call the hoggs
Then you get bitten by my cyber dog
You wanna arm wrestle or fight **** or dance?
I'll show you who wears the pants

My car is faster than your old stage
Drive you in the ditch in a bout of road rage

Rockem Sockem Robots will soon be the contagion of hate in the coming age...

D. Clare