After. As on a vessle allowing living
in words as thoughts held,
in the common,
whence we gather,
to consider the day,

any one, the one you have, you chose
a nice one,
nothing out of the ordinary, just

another day of judging things worthy
of my attention,

mmhmm, vow-eless yes, I know you know.

we think each word
is brim full, to the limit of any sur-ficant tension…

I can't, floating on the surface, wave fi,
turdish, high fibregnosis,
floating post flush, rush ride it down…

Relax. Gnoshit, we guess, we test we weigh
the laugh,
ask what is so funny?

Time, the old man chuckles, time itself.

for somehow we remember
again we live out what
we once knew

and those precious moments
are stacked away
and scratched on our hearts

yet somehow we forget

Dear Random Strangers,
            
Your sideways glances and whispered remarks have been noticed.
What you think has no effect actually means the world.
I would like to ask you...
No...Beg you...
To please stop judging me because of the marks on my wrist,
Allow me the chance to tell you my story,
Before you put the damaged book in the trash.
I know my corners are dog-ear,
Yes some pages are ripped,
And my cover is torn and scratched.
But looks can be deceiving.

Random Stranger, I know we haven't met
But every time one person disregards me,
It becomes more easy to believe I am trash,
And it makes me want to throw myself away...