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wolf mother Apr 2014
phantom heart
you're not it
not impenetrable enough
murmuring, waning
wolf mother Apr 2014
we are nothing but the wind
as it howls to the wolf
that's baffled by the sun
and every blessed bullet
wolf mother Apr 2014
when you're there i pine for you
like a stupid little intellectual
i theorize your face

make up stories about your eyelids
how they close like a hardcover book
sheltering your wisdom from the judge

you let it spill out to me
your ***** brine
tenderizing my leathery exterior
into broken down, cured meat
you freed me with your trust
i was savory, salty with your laughter on my tongue

you've been waiting for me
but i cannot come
if we are to ever be in the same room again, together
i would smother you and oppress you with
love, tainted by imaginary things
like the fable of us
like my contentment

like your hand in mine
                                         clasping surely,
                                                                ­     silently,
                                                                ­                                                    home
wolf mother Mar 2014
we were born by the gutter
we had litter in our gumption
we had message bottles fastened to us
we were lost in the sewer
we had skeleton key fingers
we had listless macabre sockets
we were offered to the tides
we had salt water tears in our orifices
we had grits bones in our teeth
we were consumed by the gutter
we were defaced in the sewer
we were sired to the tides
we were fetal in the ocean
we were atomic to the sea
wolf mother Mar 2014
if i was a twig
maybe i'd be able to sleep

trunks are fussy
roots are cumbersome
and you, you are but the smallest bud
a dying breed, a life everlasting
see-saw my wood-rot rings
and make a use for me, will you?

i am nothing but oldwivestales and folk songs
with long-forgotten lyrics
and misread meanings

mistaken for
wolf mother Mar 2014
touchstones around my neck
little purple precipice
tips caress
wet scar tissue
plastic surgeon amiss
slice, two, three, four
in and out of the cavern
enveloped in sadness
keep my eyes glued to his
in the throws of passion
cover my orifice
is it over?
writhing, bones ruining
my chance of circumcision
"You know, I become like an intruder. And behind those closed lids, you know, her eyes are now rolled all the way around and staring intently inward into some void where l, who sent them, can’t follow.” —David Foster Wallace, Brief Interviews with Hideous Men
wolf mother Mar 2014

Why must I retreat when I should be putting up a fight?
Always flight
Doesn't my body know the **** difference between danger and certain death?
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