"faculties" poems
kindness eats
least of all we defeat our enemies cheaply
steep the leaves in hot water gently
keep enemies close to you and weapons even closer
our friends are like sunbeams
I jump in the water
your sun-burned back is peeling
out loud you remind me
not to bend down too quickly
she hounds me with her questions
lessons on arithmetic
I’m so sick of it
histrionics and sonic lectures
his tricks are onto it
moronic manic accidents
red lions with long necks
deflect authority and wager on credit
the outcomes are certain
all will fade away indefinitely
understand this and measure your life
by breaths and not complexity
densities are hiding in visionary lightning
finding new faculties every moment
we are swift in our limitless
capacity for adaptation
a refulgent emulsion
immersed in water and poetry
under the highest authority
or just higher scrutiny
wrapped in a paranoid blanket
of heightened security
all is being watched right now
as judges redefine your beauty
if you are truly interested
in finding happiness
you must understand
that all magic is abraxas
and satisfaction unceasingly attacks this
as we collapse upon the backs
of ecstatic languages....
Oct 24, 2017
Oct 24, 2017 at 12:49 PM UTC
We made all possible preparations,
Drew up a list of firms,
Constantly revised our calculations
And allotted the farms,
Issued all the orders expedient
In this kind of case:
Most, as was expected, were obedient,
Though there were murmurs, of course;
Chiefly against our exercising
Our old right to abuse:
Even some sort of attempt at rising,
But these were mere boys.
For never serious misgiving
Occurred to anyone,
Since there could be no question of living
If we did not win.
The generally accepted view teaches
That there was no excuse,
Though in the light of recent researches
Many would find the cause
In a not uncommon form of terror;
Others, still more astute,
Point to possibilities of error
At the very start.
As for ourselves there is left remaining
Our honour at least,
And a reasonable chance of retaining
Our faculties to the last.
7.8k
Sadness collapses the faculties that hold together reality
Disconnected
the observer lost in painful recollection,
experiences life with no feeling of the present
A silent numbness takes over the senses,
a muted movie plays.
The zombie walks forward
hoping for better days
May 29, 2015
May 29, 2015 at 8:47 AM UTC
Once, far away, Andalusia of time.
Was I, this dreamer, this student of crime.
Devouring textbooks with a gluttonous glee.
Of masters I conversed with, with lives like movies.
FBI-profilers, psychopathologists.
Faces carved from paleo-lithic stone.
The hearts of sailors betrayed by Triton.
Their ill-fitting suits an anarchists cry.
Oh blessed hearts long since buried in the plots,
of victims whose killers would never see man’s courts.
Who knew the world and hoped to teach I,
this fresh young prey with a predator’s eye.
This fresh young prey with a predator’s eye.
Sat I with the masters, in those secret little rooms
where the dead are shuffled to have chosen for them a grave.
And it’s never more real than when the beast sits still.
In the agonising ordinary glow of the halogen buzz
that shines on guilty and innocent alike.
To reduce us all to such pathetic things.
That if not for the debt, this creature’s crimes
one could pity being on such obscene display.
If it were not known to me, in great detail
the river of misery and depravity he had left in his wake.
As a mugshot robs the aura, so too the well lit room.
And I understood why it took a much colder mind.
As even though I possessed all the faculties which
could follow and track and trap the prey;
the predator must also ****
And being in those secret little rooms
I knew I could not see it through.
I left it to those stronger than I
and leave my mark through other designs.
Dec 26, 2015
Dec 26, 2015 at 9:17 PM UTC
Kung walked
by the dynastic temple
and into the cedar grove,
and then out by the lower river,
And with him Khieu Tchi
and Tian the low speaking
And “we are unknown,” said Kung,
“You will take up charioteering?
“Then you will become known,
“Or perhaps I should take up charioterring, or archery?
“Or the practice of public speaking?”
And Tseu-lou said, “I would put the defences in order,”
And Khieu said, “If I were lord of a province
“I would put it in better order than this is.”
And Tchi said, “I would prefer a small mountain temple,
“With order in the observances,
with a suitable performance of the ritual,”
And Tian said, with his hand on the strings of his lute
The low sounds continuing
after his hand left the strings,
And the sound went up like smoke, under the leaves,
And he looked after the sound:
“The old swimming hole,
“And the boys flopping off the planks,
“Or sitting in the underbrush playing mandolins.”
And Kung smiled upon all of them equally.
And Thseng-sie desired to know:
“Which had answered correctly?”
And Kung said, “They have all answered correctly,
“That is to say, each in his nature.”
And Kung raised his cane against Yuan Jang,
Yuan Jang being his elder,
For Yuan Jang sat by the roadside pretending to
be receiving wisdom.
And Kung said
“You old fool, come out of it,
“Get up and do something useful.”
And Kung said
“Respect a child’s faculties
“From the moment it inhales the clear air,
“But a man of fifty who knows nothng
Is worthy of no respect.”
And “When the prince has gathered about him
“All the savants and artists, his riches will be fully employed.”
And Kung said, and wrote on the bo leaves:
If a man have not order within him
He can not spread order about him;
And if a man have not order within him
His family will not act with due order;
And if the prince have not order within him
He can not put order in his dominions.
And Kung gave the words “order”
and “brotherly deference”
And said nothing of the “life after death.”
And he said
“Anyone can run to excesses,
“It is easy to shoot past the mark,
“It is hard to stand firm in the middle.”
And they said: If a man commit ******
Should his father protect him, and hide him?
And Kung said:
He should hide him.
And Kung gave his daughter to Kong-Tchang
Although Kong-Tchang was in prison.
And he gave his niece to Nan-Young
although Nan-Young was out of office.
And Kung said “Wan ruled with moderation,
“In his day the State was well kept,
“And even I can remember
“A day when the historians left blanks in their writings,
“I mean, for things they didn’t know,
“But that time seems to be passing.
A day when the historians left blanks in their writings,
But that time seems to be passing.”
And Kung said, “Without character you will
“be unable to play on that instrument
“Or to execute the music fit for the Odes.
“The blossoms of the apricot
“blow from the east to the west,
“And I have tried to keep them from falling.”
4.6k
Oh, what a horrible night
Definitely not late December back in '63
These are the Frankie valleys of my days
Night is always black
Night always comes back
Night envelopes us in the abyss
And makes us cherish light
Heightening our senses
To help us handle the unknown
When my days are filled with stimulation
The stillness of night sinks me
Into quicksand mixed by
The current of my mind
Overflowing into the sands of time
And reminds me
Of the stillness of my eyes locked on you
Or the stillness of my actions as you walk by
Or the stillness of my heart when you call me a ******
My frustration boiled
Night's black tar
So I bottled it up
Placed it in a syringe
And medicated my love with darkness
I worked my first job at the local Kroger's
People would leave with everything they wanted
And I'd push their empty carts back into the store
The artificial lights of the street lamps
Lacked warmth
Their hypnotic buzz highlighted
The stillness of night
Making me wonder if there was any way I could be happy
Similar to when activity would die down in rehab
A pitiful wretch left to his faculties
I'd stare out the window
Into the concrete chasm
And wonder if happiness could be found by someone like me
Night continues
Night confines
Day comes
And goes
Night returns
Night reburns
Night relearned
I really hate to see the day come to an end
It'd be alright if I was on the bay with a pen
But I live near sulfur vents
Inside a searing tent
Where the hellacious temperature rises rapidly
Despite the absence of the sun's warmth
The hellfire of night
Reminisces of those
I have thoroughly failed
And my overwhelming remorse
As I stare out my window
Into the bramble ravine
I wonder about the possibility of contentment
The stillness of night answers me
But at least now I can open the door
And charge into the night headstrong
To search frantically
For someone who
Erases my history
And writes my future
And makes me wonder if I could ever be happier
Jul 11, 2017
Jul 11, 2017 at 4:13 AM UTC
When we met,
you made my heart wet.
Like morning dew of hope,
from Heaven, chemistry crept,
with hope and regret
of everything you may
and may not get.
Your faculties tasted me
in anticipation...
How my eyes' light
might look in your bed,
how my words ringing
swam in your head.
You perked me up like sweet grass,
onto my taste buds you bled.
Our souls danced
and sang in embrace.
When we parted they said,
Well if that's that,
mission accomplished.
Whether covert or conscious,
whether or not
she even calls him,
we have loved once again.
Less a natural reaction,
more an inexplicable combustion.
From that day on it was destined,
from admiration swapped and accepted,
We could never return
to who we'd been.
Jan 2, 2015
Jan 2, 2015 at 10:03 PM UTC
*blistering day shuns a walk
all flock to recycled air-con of malls
few venture out* . . .
1.
walk along a mountain path
dislike snakes
wear heavy ankle-boots
rough route
craggy stones
grow tired
2.
head on stone
fall into drowsy slumber
baking brains gathering aches
3.
huge mountain appears
espy a cut opening along the side
a welcoming slit
enter slowly
step by step
seems to brook entry to no more
wonder what calls inside
4.
distant drumming
not afraid
joy fills supreme
reducing epicenter
gentle hands touch and pull in
negating every fear
melting away bleak thoughts
sink deeper into the earth
down . . . down . . . down
into cavities unknown
follow secret canal away from here
5.
sweetest eyes greet and kiss
fall into soft furrows
carried along canal of warmth
close the eyes
fall in heart with glowing ambience
subtle humming felt beneath the soles
sweetest honey-lake
deeper . . . deeper . . . deeper
sublime cocoon - always dreamt of
what supreme bliss
falls in lap of bearer
6.
all cares washed away
known memories seem to float off
as a dinghy to a waterfall
lost over that lip
free fall
free fall
conscience takes a bobbing nap
on waves which lull the senses
into drifting buoy
as conscious dips
utter serenity
spirit moves freely
totally unencumbered
/ /
[awareness - jolted - sudden - open
as corporeal fetters take hold once more
teeter into rude awakening
rub eyes to verify
faculties catapulting in greedy succession
/ /
find a hessian bag on rock
half-afraid to check inside
seemingly empty
lift the edge and peer inside
/ /
the most silent rainbow of inner dreams
long-forgotten wishes flow
into being
as rains come down]
/ /
*no more fear.. again
no more tension
no answering to
no deprivation
no derision
two pure doves hover
quite high
a pale-blue
buoy ~
the only signs of hope
blistering judgment dissolves
beautiful buoy floating
a way.... to marve cut of pure crystal
away...
on an endless ocean of calm*
S T, 20 August 2013
Aug 20, 2013
Aug 20, 2013 at 11:54 AM UTC
Come lay beneath the skylight
At a time when it's calm and quiet
There's always a strangeness within the silence
It heightens as the contiguous melodies crescendo without a pilot
Thoughts embraced are pushed aside for this moment
To catch the breath in the night with rhythm as a component
Still like the stem, of a flower unveiling the crown
Deepening down as time is frozen to claim the golden exponent
Midnight brings whimsical strings plucked by the creatures that hail
Nature springs underneath man's dreams; Those clouds that we sail
Through aural communication comes the cerebral provocation
That latent faculties synchronize and incite with an inhale, then exhale
Nov 5, 2013
Nov 5, 2013 at 5:40 PM UTC
A question carries me, scorching shores
in a blazing trail.
A question vexes me and provokes my
interest.
How do we come to know the unknownable?
Should our faculties prove enough or should we
push ourselves to venture further and further?
Into the deep unknown we travel
where a flicker of wild eyes lurk.
Should the story terrify me,
would my thought comfort me?
In moonlight's shadow the tale begins
on shores of gold my tale will end.
Apr 17, 2018
Apr 17, 2018 at 4:14 PM UTC
From touch, sight, smell, or thought
The onslaught of ecstasy
Quivers and tingles inside of me
Gingerly waiting
To fulfill the pleasures promised
By *********** or ************
The denouement to frustration
The sensual culmination
Exploding and calming
Aggression
Restoring possession
Of reasoning faculties
******* with
A warm and gooey
Satisfaction
Dec 19, 2014
Dec 19, 2014 at 7:19 AM UTC
*I once had my mental faculties in check
And my heart’s pacemaker functioning relatively normally
Didn’t know you’d be a pain in the neck
Causing my heart to oscillate solemnly
From acute insanity to imagined bliss
Gravity’s power rendered dysfunctional
And I plunged heedlessly into love’s abyss
Evidently an amateur radical
My ego prostrated
My emotions infatuated*
Am indeed yet another statistic
Of cupid’s uncanny antics.
Aug 27, 2013
Aug 27, 2013 at 8:48 AM UTC
Making The Right Choices With Your Money While You Are Alive
We think we'll live forever. Who among us will readily admit that they will ultimately die, without maintaining that secret hope that somehow, not me! How many people get swept away in there lust for money? Saving, calculating, weighing, balancing, adding, economizing, with frugality and ultimately for what. So they can amass this tremendous wealth that they won't be taking with them in the end anyway.
Sound advice, use you money wisely while you are still alive and with your full faculties intact. You can do much good with the money you have saved, while you are alive, that will bring you happiness even when you are long gone! Faith that the good you do will live on (in your merit). It's only a matter of faith. Perhaps a faith worthy to live by, as well as die for.
When we pass that final gate, there might not be any opportunities for a last chance. What we have accomplished in this world will be ours forever more. This my friend will ultimately, and truly, be our "final score."
**wealth not happiness
here today, gone tomorrow
with death, nothing left**
Jul 30, 2015
Jul 30, 2015 at 3:49 PM UTC
These times strike monied worldlings with dismay:
Even rich men, brave by nature, taint the air
With words of apprehension and despair:
While tens of thousands, thinking on the affray,
Men unto whom sufficient for the day
And minds not stinted or untilled are given,
Sound, healthy, children of the God of heaven,
Are cheerful as the rising sun in May.
What do we gather hence but firmer faith
That every gift of noble origin
Is breathed upon by Hope’s perpetual breath;
That virtue and the faculties within
Are vital,—and that riches are akin
To fear, to change, to cowardice, and death?
1.8k
Parents are the weirdest - of God's creation.
I mean, who on Earth would desire the responsibility of another human being from the time they **** in their pants to the time they leave saying 'what have you ever done for me?' ?
Who would, of all the things in the world, like their homeroom stuffed with stupid CDs and stuffed racoons, waterguns and Legos, dried acrylics and miniature utensil sets, ugly pyjamas and strange half-knit sweaters?
I need to know why parents don't object to their kids pooping everywhere.
It's either the kids are super cute or the parents are super crazy.
I'm sure it isn't the former.
A certain lack of imaginative faculties, in parents, is evident to me,quite frankly.
Think of it this way- if it weren't for us - kids, our parents would have been carefree playboys and playgirls, and 'living their lives' - cliché.
What weirdos really!
Their standards of children's safety too possess a particular oddity.
It's only the exact moment of physical contact during a hug that our parents feel we're safe.
Their sense of economy and finance is oxymoronic.
They love discounts. But they'll pay extra for whatever their kids wish.
I wonder how they resist TV shows of most sorts just because they won't have their kids watch remotely explicit content, visual or auditory.
I bet their sense of direction is most unnaturally affected too.
Why do they even follow their kids, when they know kids don't have a working GPS?
Do you have any idea, to what lengths parents go to make veggies seem delicious?
Veggies, Really?
Parents will have you take disgusting syrups and painful **** injections,
And claim they love you.
Parents will have you hit the books,
And claim they love you.
Parents will ground you because you do something they don't like (but they too did it when they were kids),
And claim they love you.
Parents will stop you every time you say a swear word (but they swear all the time),
And claim they love you.
Parents will claim they love you,
Maybe, because they really love you.
Oh, their weirdness never ends.
Parents may seem eccentric,
Their ways might seem a bit too bizarre,
Maybe that's how the people who really love us behave!
Yet, we're always rushing away from them.
If you have ever traveled in a bus, you'll know how absurdly keen the passengers are, to get off, when it stops.
That's how keen the kids are, to leave the laps of their mothers, quite literally the most comfortable place in the world.
Parents really are - the weirdest of God's creation.
And the loveliest too.
Mar 12, 2019
Mar 12, 2019 at 1:31 PM UTC
I’ve felt lost
Like tangerines being pushed into the
Discotheque of animosity slowly murdering each other’s nebula with
Arms crossed over and eyes blazing joints among the durable and dangerous
Architectures where the faculties of the skull
No longer admit the worms of the senses
How much time may be disjointed while everyone
Takes to their wondering sky
The glass floor the rock beaten path
The somber shadow of neglect justifies
My hiding from the world somewhere
I shatter into a billion pieces and slowly the collapse remembers how it once
Felt the ugly ball of lights thrusting each beam into my skin
A metallic taste in my mouth
The groovy red liquid that makes life dependable as painted laughs
Migrate to the other side of dawn
No one hopes for anything
Let it all disintegrate into the coming rainfall
Gathering in small odd shaped holes all over the cities belly
Barbwire disguises melancholy gasps of breath
I’ve seen you in those hours where anything can happen
And it does
No longer waiting at the long table
No response no self doubt
My particles coagulate in my throat
The simple thought disappears
A night of unrest turns your skin inside out as
The violence escalates into silent picture mode
Only thirst recovering from three days of religion
And no explanation is needed
I know when all those beautiful sad laughs you send out on every
Other month finally arrive I’ll be ready to open my eyes
Hold my hands out and receive you in full
Is this your spirit?
Or the glare coming off the street lamps
Just close the door
And lose all memory of me
May 31, 2013
May 31, 2013 at 10:23 AM UTC
I miss being filled with a sense of here and now from
the unclouded mental vision of youth before
the eclosion from adolescent reverie to
adult delusions.
Every moment thereafter
being crystallized with serene debasement of self.
With age eagerly gripping the hand of heartache,
will you worry about losing relevance?
survey says, an astounding "YES"
Frightening,
knee-knocking
shoot the stranger who walks at dusk questions arise...
How long will my mental faculties survive this torment of existence?
How long till I am the stranger blinded and in the dark?
How long till I am the fly caught in a web of ineptitude?
Forever the convalescent,
I revel in and reveal the depths of human insolence.
For, ever striving to be the emotion-less outsider,
I become buried beneath the
inherent
ephemerality
of
cerebral
acuity.
Sep 22, 2010
Sep 22, 2010 at 11:45 AM UTC
The strings were pulled of a bitter signal
Erratically hateful in their draw
Commencing the judgment of her mental state
As a bloodthirsty crowd looked on in awe
All her pleading notations were met with objection
By all their unfeeling eyes
Who merely wished to bear witness to the surrender
Of sanity and to see its quiet demise
Suddenly without warning an onrush of light
Blinded the probing eyes of the crowd
A curve of great decision was suspended in space
As they began to read her crimes aloud
Guilty as charged a voice rang out from the light
For moving against the grain
For not following behind the shadow of others
She is guilty, she must be insane
Completely unnatural, no control of her faculties
She cannot possibly be competent, the voice loudly rang
Daring to be optimistic in the face of grievous pain
She holds no resentment, she must be insane
Her sentence was pronounced for the entire crowd to hear
Claiming her incompetent and unfit
All the eyes in the crowd remain blinded by the light
Yet she doesn’t mind at all as she smiles and sits
She smiles into the faces of the blinded crowd
Knowing she has not changed a bit
****** she may be to the unfeeling eyes of the blind
However, they can never take her own happiness
Jul 30, 2010
Jul 30, 2010 at 6:13 AM UTC
In the morning, I gather my thoughts of yesterday
Like the foraging chipmunk, collecting acorns
And stuffing them miserly in my jowls
The past is sustenance for a somnolent soul
As age condemns my faculties
I pull, from my once copious jowl
A jewel of sorts
A garnet set in fool’s gold
My memory is manufactured
Assembled and disassembled
No longer what was or is or will be
But was and is and never has been
I confine my thoughts to winter
Where barren fields and sterile trees
Offer less to recollect
And empty my jaws of these useless reminiscences
Oct 29, 2014
Oct 29, 2014 at 7:11 AM UTC
Neither man nor machine,
these beings; being pipe dreams
were conceived by the silver screen.
Unseen by the naked eye,
they have taken you and I
by surprise like a tractor beam.
Neither the factor of genes nor factories
nor anthropological capacity.
These beings, being faculties of thought,
predetermine the preface of the plot.
© Matthew Harlovic
Mar 17, 2016
Mar 17, 2016 at 12:22 PM UTC
aware of my depravity
pressed down by the gravity
kept down by the havoc it spills actually
it's sweet like a cavity
it'll confront you callously,
it'll tactically relieve you of your faculties
aware of my depravity
seeing how it got to me, seeing how it held hold of me
No plan of letting go of me, feeding me feelings of apathy
my demons parade me, pageantry , steal from me, give me fantasy
somebody send the cavalry, somebody take this pain from me
somebody save myself from me, give me back my captaincy.
Sep 11, 2018
Sep 11, 2018 at 9:17 PM UTC
That shining tower built tall and Proud
earth a mother and blue skies its lover
seeking perfection,that entity ethereal so,
by minds mystical and practical together
conflicting hard the dreamer and the doer
the willing and unwilling driven mutual as one.
Designed vision a force inexorable, realized slow,
a conviction human spreading action like wildfire
energized faculties stretched,knowledge all exhausted
euphoric waves creative ridden like a master boatman
a slow birth of creation delivered combined by men all
with bodies drained,minds triumphant,heads held high.
Attempted perfection teaches wise, taunting,teasing us,
so elusive with our minds limited and bodies ever tiring.
reach it you can never, just beyond grasp,evolving ever
founded in your mind but form it physical you can never.
I agree nodding yes, i caught you momentary,to the best
of my abilities now, I learned and shall keep chasing you!
Jan 12, 2013
Jan 12, 2013 at 3:20 PM UTC
Would you now go spitefully hating the sun
Or go viciously plundering pretty flower beds
Or go crushing underfoot, fall leaves in contempt
Or turn gently into the fresh fold of snow?
Come, come, dear child, hold out thy hands
Let me gently embrace thy spindly frame
And divest thee of thy onerous cloak
For thou art at journey's end; thy vessel awaits repose.
If I told you which season you'd die in
Would you relent with ease, when the hour falls upon you?
Should you know I'm not as fearsome as most believe
Could you surrender the lent Light I must return?
You already know the answer without knowing
For it is not how you look, but how you look!
You no longer remember, it's been so long
So, I ask it plain: Would you really want to know?
You are not just a spoke on the wheel of Life
Which needs to, as the seasons, turn resolute
Yet you pass through them all, simultaneously
Save, your linear faculties confine your esoteric bridge.
Take joy in aestival airs, the apex of fruition
Springtime soil so easily squandered, bear in mind
Access introspective glimpses with hiemal hibernation
Autumnal foliage is but a screen, time to get real!
You cannot have the sunshine without the rain
Nor expect fine blossoms without fair travail
Seek thus the true bounty bedecked in full view
If you had but the seer's eyeless sight, dear guest.
As you travelled from one season to another
Did you live fully, even in between them?
Yes, the tiny labyrinth-passages you overlooked
Time to exact the price now run overdue.
Too attached you are to world and kin
For none of these, can you take with you
But beneficial acts and and good intent
Cosmic trick of genes is cecity delivered.
The one whose life you may regard so worthless
Retains a level which allows his soul to pass through
The eye of a needle, not measured in numbers
Hoist your soul on, tilt your core... I carry you home
So, come, wayworn traveller, hold out thy hands
Let me tenderly close thy brief visit here
And divest thee of thy onerous cloak, prithee
For thou art at journey's end; thy vessel awaits repose.
Star Toucher, 24 March 2013
Mar 24, 2013
Mar 24, 2013 at 4:06 AM UTC
Yesterday some files got stolen
Felt a numbness for long
As if some part of life got erased
No one said its coming, Alzheimer's; not a virus
Ironically, the latest to lose was,
The one on, 'Mitigating Risks'
A 'Stolen Report' was filed
The format wanted a lot of details
What, when, where and how
Penning them down was a struggle
After all, the life lost was beyond
"Time" and "Space", for Alzheimer
Life said "I can't bear this tension,
Pray hard to get those stolen things back"
Some random thoughts, some arguments,
Some evidence, some case law
Some reminders, some proofs, some records
"God, be kind enough to get me those- random thoughts back"
Yesterday I got robbed of:
My unblemished, false pride of never losing
My faith in "big brother" to watch me, over
My pseudo faculties of intuitions
My blind faiths in miracles, and
My impulses to get worked up
Yesterday, as I retired,
Rewinding the day and that dusk
My soul murmured to me
"5 o' clock will come anyway
Relish, those robbed by the stolen files.
(all rights with author)
Sep 21, 2016
Sep 21, 2016 at 10:27 PM UTC
You're quite the trickster,
With tall pair of gin and tonic.
Shall we dance a set or two,
Before you assail me
In the dark, with objects
Stowed away in your
Glove compartment?
I promise to walk into walls,
Become pliable in your arms.
You even have my word,
I'll lose control of all
My faculties right about
The time you begin ********** me.
And I will wake up
In the morning,
With no memory
And no underwear.
You can then move
Carefree, on to your
Next hapless victim.
While I merrily go about
My day in the numbed womb's
Afterbirth of that last sentence.
Forever to ***** at
Flesh and membrane.
Sincerely quiet,
Candace
Nov 20, 2019
Nov 20, 2019 at 11:23 PM UTC