"straggling" poems
I don't understand.
Am I the only one?
Who doesn't agree with society
When the day is done.
Bulging hip bones are key,
With gaps in our thighs.
But have you ever thought,
Society lies?
"Happiness can't exist,
With out a man by your side.
And you can't get a man,
Unless you put down those fries.
But have a good time,
Go smoke and drink.
Have you tried this drug?
It's better than you think.
And don't get a job,
Or save all your money.
Just meet the right guy,
And there you go honey!
But he wants a certain girl,
Flawless and stunning.
So go buy this makeup,
And your in the running.
By the second date.
Open your heart.
And open your legs,
Your relationship will start.
He'll always love you,
And he says it all the time,
Luckiest girl in the world,
With a hot guy by her side.
All muscle and gorgeous,
It's just perfect,
No fights, just love,
This was totally worth it."
Really?
You you really want that?
Hate to break it to you,
But that's total crap.
Reality isn't this life,
It's fantasy if that.
Society is a demon,
That tells you your fat.
It's a size you can't fit.
It's a race you can't win.
It's a pathway death,
From girls dying to be thin.
No one can fit the standards,
That's how money is made.
Society feeds on that,
And innocent people that paid.
Guys and girls.
Of every age,
Feel the affects,
Of society's rage.
And yes I said guys.
They too feel the hate.
If they don't have the look,
Girls don't wanna date.
"Too fat, too thin,
Where's the 6-pack?
Yeah nice personality,
But who wants that?"
I want that.
Yeah I said it.
That's real love,
And that's where I'm headed.
I want a long life,
I look a head,
And yes I want to enjoy it,
Before I lie dead.
Your journey is not over
When your thirty or forty
You might have kids to raise,
You have to get up in the morning.
You get to grow old,
With a husband you love.
The one you married,
For the brains up above.
Not for the looks,
Because time fades it.
But for the personality.
That's what is truly infinite.
He should love the same way.
No pressure, no harm.
And if he ever does,
It should sound an alarm.
Because your better than that.
And don't compare.
I know its hard.
So be prepared.
I'm here to warn you,
Of the road your traveling.
You will hit a dead end,
And life will leave you straggling.
Change your ways now,
Open your eyes,
To the truth of life,
Society lies.
Dec 8, 2013
Dec 8, 2013 at 8:51 PM UTC
XXIX
I think of thee!—my thoughts do twine and bud
About thee, as wild vines, about a tree,
Put out broad leaves, and soon there ’s nought to see
Except the straggling green which hides the wood.
Yet, O my palm-tree, be it understood
I will not have my thoughts instead of thee
Who art dearer, better! Rather, instantly
Renew thy presence; as a strong tree should,
Rustle thy boughs and set thy trunk all bare,
And let these bands of greenery which insphere thee
Drop heavily down,—burst, shattered, everywhere!
Because, in this deep joy to see and hear thee
And breathe within thy shadow a new air,
I do not think of thee—I am too near thee.
3.5k
The bush that has most briers and bitter fruit,
Wait till the frost has turned its green leaves red,
Its sweetened berries will thy palate suit,
And thou may'st find e'en there a homely bread.
Upon the hills of Salem scattered wide,
Their yellow blossoms gain the eye in Spring;
And straggling e'en upon the turnpike's side,
Their ripened branches to your hand they bring,
I 've plucked them oft in boyhood's early hour,
That then I gave such name, and thought it true;
But now I know that other fruit as sour
Grows on what now thou callest Me and You;
Yet, wilt thou wait the autumn that I see,
Will sweeter taste than these red berries be.
3.3k
Seeking a reality,
bridges, boats, and canopies.
Calamity surrounds and swarms
my skin of wicked tragedy.
A cavalcade of traveling;
a taste of fleeting sanity.
Settle with the is or question off into the can it be.
Bridges, boats, and canopies,
Bridges, boats, and canopies,
Ripples in the water always fade but follow straggling.
Bridges, boats, and canopies,
Vistas, view or craft the scene,
Settle with the is or question off into the can it be.
Jan 26, 2013
Jan 26, 2013 at 1:20 AM UTC
Forty days and Forty nights
Kachina dolls danced
pounding deer skin drums
rattling snake gourds
whistling circles of
flustered chicken feathers and totem poles
around the drooping firmament
here and there wisps of
sunken chested, shrunken breasted
castrated clouds dragging their empty
rain barrels could be seen straggling
across heat infested waves
at times I swear I could hear the wind
cussing through dry crackling branches
Pine wearing wide brimmed straw hats
squabbling with over bleached blond Palms
How we languished and thirsted for the
dulcet, pure, pellucid taste of Your crystal kisses
lavender squeaky clean smell of rain-bells
oh! to feel those torrents gushing down our
upturned faces, slicked back hair,
engulfing our flowering *****
drenching us to the bone
then this morning we heard an unfamiliar sound
fairy feet tap-dancing on rooftops
excited I ran outside
crowing the Gayatri mantra
flapping prema pink wings
waddling like a duck in slap happy puddles
Yes, Dear God
a grateful, thankful swan,
gossamer reflection
glistening fervently up at You
from diaphanous depths
inexhaustible wellspring
diamond spa of Your Love
Hari Om
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Oct 31, 2013
Oct 31, 2013 at 8:47 AM UTC
I am in a *********
I know what you’re thinking
‘Really? You? Standards must be sinking’
But you see
My lovers guard me, they are my protection
On my left is Anxiety
And on my right is Depression
They both think I am…smoking hot
Like I am something worth fighting over
Both claiming my thoughts as belonging to them each
As though everything I learn is all what they teach
Depression likes to mess with my body as well as my thoughts
Running its sharp and callous hands over the flesh of my limbs believing I get pleasure from its touch
While Anxiety gnaws at my wrists like a rubber band ping, ping, pinging
As though I don’t have better things to do like living.
Three is a crowd
And we have tried breaking up
But Anxiety is clingy
And even when I change the locks it still manages to nit-pick its way back inside
Depression is so addictive and likes to hug
Wraps its arms around me and even when I cover my ears
I still hear it whisper it look what you’ve done
D and A are similar in ways
They both like to put me down, tell me I’m not good enough
And then hold me until I believe they have me picked me up
And saved me from killing this part of the trilogy
I am the last part
I am so far unwritten
The last piece of the puzzle
That makes up the picture
Of a self-destructive girl
In the midst of something she can’t understand
She has a nice smile though and a good heart
But the lovers are not attracted to that
Though they don’t mind ripping them apart
Until her lips are too battered to smile anymore
The ***** that once pumped double time is so unsure
Of itself it finds it difficult to even try
You know what, **** it
I can do this
I will break up with them
They have done this to hundreds of people before
And they’ll do it again
This is not right
This is not how I should be treated
I am a strong independent woman
I will not be defeated.
To Anxiety and Depression, you’re not getting custody
Not of this mind and not of this body
I am not letting you through the gate anymore
I will buy stronger locks
And not let you in even if you politely knock
There is no home here for you
You go hand in hand
Like young naïve lovers
Straggling for attention
Even under the covers
I will not call you again
We once were lovers but you were never my friends.
Jul 27, 2013
Jul 27, 2013 at 1:54 PM UTC
Thatcher vacuum seals nicotine
Slurps cigarette like mosquito
Ravenous lungs gnaw and grind for the slow pander,
Thatcher’s just another name for the labeling
We plaster and pine for an out,
Stitch that finite lie beneath squeamish child skin,
Thatcher’s the black lung paradise,
******* infancy coddling cigarette stifle,
The caloric crack of his canines fletching out lust and sickly groove
As he’s scopes out fiend and vexed vandals,
Clutches the sick theistic **********
Cuddle those bruise licked hips
Give God the gross percent,
Cause heaven’s in those greenbacks
and God’s in the ******* kick,
Suckling bout the American tip
The Christian capitol,
Seething on shadow puppet ****** and American dream,
Gods got nothing to do with the slickened crinkle of gain and glamour,
Thatcher’s just the candy man give and cult,
Cough the crutch of contagion greed
And clutch the cuff of your porcelain sleeve,
Thatcher gleans your blackest suite tight,
Struts raven blade shoulders perched on American made spine,
Thatcher does as Thatcher please,
Thatcher thinks as Thatcher bleeds,
And Thatcher bleeds venereal blend,
Gout with the American veneer of broken girl and scabbed moral traumatic,
Trauma tastes as the hollow pixies give out the get out,
Bandaged baby girls,
The teenage horror show,
Just another blazoned hit of one two take the hand me down generic give away,
Desensitize the humanize,
Girls got to get the days glossy puff and sniff,
Thatcher’s content to satisfy,
Callous coroner a spectator suckling Marlboro lick,
Lodging thick smoke and toxin between spittle slick lips,
Albino plumes clotting and unfolding,
Thatcher clicks back the cartridge
Filter and cigarette,
Thatcher gulps back the need because brain’s got a favoring kink for the buzz,
Thatcher sings with the screaming in his straggling lungs,
Hums the western creed
Laughs fickle with God at his need,
Thatcher’s the true American dream
Apr 23, 2013
Apr 23, 2013 at 5:17 PM UTC
In this life, I have seen the valley of broken dreams filled with the souls of taqueria entrepreneurs. I have seen gleaming grills, Hispanic frills, greasy thrills. I have seen spirit thrive in the eyes of men armed with bank loans and family recipes. I have eaten their food, delicious beyond necessity. I have experienced the magic of taquerias and restaurants.
And I have seen that magic die.
I've observed the life unfold, unfurl with a magic to behold. I have seen that magic served in a half-empty restaurant that Frontera has outsold. I have had the magic gone, replaced by payday lenders and takeout from Taiwan. I have seen empty storefronts and the straggling last days of taqueria entrepreneurs. And I grieve every time at the lost loans and lost hopes left behind. But tonight, there will be no grieving. Instead,
Let us eat magic in their memory, enjoy the grease that will surely send us to infirmaries. Let us celebrate the time they had, the tortas, tamales, and leftovers taken home in a bag. Let us celebrate the doomed Mexican restaurants.
Dec 4, 2015
Dec 4, 2015 at 11:20 PM UTC
Unless I learn to ask no help
From any other soul but mine,
To seek no strength in waving reeds
Nor shade beneath a straggling pine;
Unless I learn to look at Grief
Unshrinking from her tear-blind eyes,
And take from Pleasure fearlessly
Whatever gifts will make me wise—
Unless I learn these things on earth,
Why was I ever given birth?
1.5k
--To A. J.
A black and glassy float, opaque and still,
The loch, at furthest ebb supine in sleep,
Reversing, mirrored in its luminous deep
The calm grey skies; the solemn spurs of hill;
Heather, and corn, and wisps of loitering haze;
The wee white cots, black-hatted, plumed with smoke;
The braes beyond--and when the ripple awoke,
They wavered with the jarred and wavering glaze.
The air was hushed and dreamy. Evermore
A noise of running water whispered near.
A straggling crow called high and thin. A bird
Trilled from the birch-leaves. Round the shingled shore,
Yellow with **** there wandered, vague and clear,
Strange vowels, mysterious gutturals, idly heard.
1.4k
Upon the announcement of my arrival
my ancestors weaved brillant threads to make a quilt for my bed
with steadfast hands, they weaved themselves a plan
who i was to become, what kind of man
upon the days of my arrival
my ancestors fantastically wrapped me up in the quilt of blue and red
this quilt housed me for many seasons
itched me, pinched me, left me cold at night
bit me, tripped me, straggling my rights
the brillant quilt made to protect became my golden cage instead
their plan created my strife
their plan corseted my life
after years spent suffocating in the threads
i decided to break away from the plan
emerging like a little chick out of an egg
i chose to live my life today
still the foundation laid was unscathed
every trigger sent my heart into disarray
independence fortified, return to the egg
the quilt might be itchy, it might be tight
but it is easier than learning how to fly
Jul 12, 2023
Jul 12, 2023 at 1:55 PM UTC
These two things I remember:
the lights dimmed slowly
and then went dark,
and my mouth was filled
over the teeth, to the lips,
with dirt-ripened maggots.
Those little mongrels had grown inside me,
my saliva was their nourishment,
my cheeks, their protection.
They nestled so deeply into my gums,
in the crevices where cavities were to grow
on the walls of their ebony buildings.
We were beautiful
but none would call it symbiotic.
Illumination ran away,
far off, bounded for the infinite fields.
The light lightness left me.
I don't know who was in charge
of sending the charge
through my electric chair.
I grew to embrace the seat,
that splintered piece of wood,
the pain in my sweating palms,
and the metal clasps which restricted my arms.
It gave security to impending doom,
the promise of finite end.
The wooden back
gave rest to my love-ridden bones
so I tongued my friends
straggling about my chops
in comfort and pleasure.
That chair, those lights,
they were empty vessels.
Built for, but never meant to,
fulfill their purposes.
That is,
until a bulge-eyed, masked man
connected the current.
The lights went out
and maggots filled my mouth.
Aug 24, 2012
Aug 24, 2012 at 8:36 PM UTC
*We loved
With a love
That I didn't know existed.*
This is not a love poem;
This is a ballad
Of all the sweet love songs
that finally made sense,
This is a dictionary
Defining the new outlook on life you gave me,
This is the final scene
Of something so perfect,
It had to be nothing much more than fiction.
God stitched together
All of my cuts and wounds
With thread made of your touch,
Your scent, your voice,
Your laugh, your hair flip,
Your 'I love yous', your leftover strands of hair
Still clinging to all of my clothes,
As if this distance between us
Was never there in the first place.
We were like Romeo and Juliet,
Discarding what everyone had to say.
I loved you like I was an abused dog
Straggling along, pouncing on any piece of meat
That came my way
Until you held me tight close to you,
Letting me know that
It'd all be okay.
Your love rivaled that
Of the Sun and the Moon,
You had shed light on my world
When I couldn't see
Past my insecurities and downfalls,
And brought shooting star showers down upon me
When it seems like the bad days could not get any longer.
We trekked over hills and valleys
And sure, sometimes, we slipped -
but we always made sure
That we got back up and kept going.
Our love was a perfect melody,
And sometimes, we struck a sour note,
But your voice was always a beautiful symphony
That slowed everything back down to its right pace.
I loved you
like diamonds yearning
For the perfect ray of light
To grace its surface
So that it may project a perfect spectrum
Upon your naked left ring finger
That i had daydreams every day
Of staking as my territory.
We were a binary solar system
In supposed equilibrium
Until your gravitational pull
Ripped away all my outer layers
And you left me vulnerable,
so that you could use all my flaws
To become a black hole
and tear my whole being to shreds.
I loved you
Like the breeze loves flowing through
Your hair, making a cascading waterfall
that left me drowning in your beauty.
But now -
You're not mine anymore.
And I'm not okay with that.
Jan 5, 2014
Jan 5, 2014 at 12:36 AM UTC
yellow city, black sky
massive architecture, flickering liquid
glass oceans along
the cold canyons of San Francisco
wavering illusion upon reality
disfigured sideshow reflections
of disembodied achievement
trapped in themselves,
our selves
no longer nourished by the roots,
a hunger imposed upon the planet
like a suffocating blanket that people
pave over and **** on
until it's buried so deep
that even the heart has trouble breathing,
trouble beating out its rhythm;
a musical act of joy now stuttering
along like a gasping survivor
straggling across the ruins of Pompeii
crying out for what? help? no,
the end of suffering, a swift death
instead of the long parasitic drawl
that man so eagerly inflicts
upon the earth, himself
claiming the Kingdom
for the eternal barbarian, deep in the veins
coursing through the apparatus
which creaks beneath the weight of our guilt
and stultifies in the monstrosity of our ignorance,
yet it continues to run,
as if to see how far we'll go,
as if life were merely an experiment to see
how spectacularly
it could end
Oct 14, 2011
Oct 14, 2011 at 7:13 PM UTC
i remember trying to convince you when you were at 50/50 to take me back when you're the one that broke my heart
i remember begging and now i am mad
IM MAD AT MYSELF
cause like you said i have no control
i have no control of my thoughts even that i didn't know what was wrong last night
i don't know
YOU ARE THE LOVE OF MY LIFE
but i'm afraid you will leave
not for someone else
not because you got bored
but because you can't handle me
you don't love me anymore
well what is love when it's disappeared
love stays forever it doesn't fade
i remember when you said you were afraid you didn't love me anymore
well now i'm afraid
im so afraid im on my toes telling myself to expect the unexpected
im so scared of you leaving
cause when i look at you i get this burst of feeling
i can't describe in words but ill try
like someone lit a warm fire inside my chest and my heart starts beating fast and i just want to blurt "I LOVE YOU SO MUCH" and that's not even close to how i feel
ME LOVING YOU IS AN UNDERSTATEMENT
i cannot fathom how much i love you
i know you feel love for me
but sometimes i wonder if it's the same thing
"does he feel like this all the time?"
"does he think about me as much as i think about him"
"does he always think of me as the love of his life or only in the good moments"
all these questions toss and turn in my brain
i can't decipher any of it so i go insane
and then i shut down
and that's why i shut you out
because sometimes it's too much time and too much thought and i can't handle the thought of losing you
and i don't want to hear words
i want to see
i want to be proven to me
that you won't leave me anymore
and you have been doing that but i guess it's just me being irrational cause you're too perfect to me
Oct 14, 2016
Oct 14, 2016 at 1:47 PM UTC
An age-fog hangs in heavy drapes
Around my head, a thickening gauze,
And memory of your love escapes
This numbing mist that's sealed my doors.
My straggling wispy hair you stroke,
While whispering of a life-long love;
Your shafts of sunlight **** and poke
But cannot pierce the cloud above
For staring at this window I
Avert my gaze, your touch resist.
My memory dulled, with glassy eye
And drooling mouth,I face the mist.
Jan 12, 2010
Jan 12, 2010 at 9:31 PM UTC
Depression is an overused word
It might make an easy rhyme
For poets who labor under the impression
That they can climb to the heights of expression
By showing no discretion with each and every
Narcissistic emotional self-obsession confession.
But of all the poetic depression transgressions
From the front of the procession
To the straggling indiscretion
The worst and least touched on
Is that it's boring...
Depression and talk of it
Leads to the inevitable compression
Of each and every tidbit
Or texture that prevents a poem from becoming a lecture
It flattens the curve
It scans the sculpture
A man of depth dwindles to a nerve
But depression doesn't let them see how it narrows their view
The circle it drew around appropriate questions
Ignore the censor and suppression
Be vigilant of the slightest dispossession
Starting to understand this oppression?
Don't let it convince you that you can see more clearly
From the bottom of a pit
You have no idea what you're missing
Mar 19, 2021
Mar 19, 2021 at 5:11 AM UTC
I rode the train with my girl today
across the barn swept hollows
Past lush fields of emerald green
with the life and love that follows
The train car tapped out a lullaby beat
which spent our time lost in leisure
The smiles past came by in the peace
small sweet gifts we couldn’t measure
A man had set across the aisle of us
he seemed so different from me
Clothes tattered, torn and weathered
homeless and likely worn hard was he
I couldn’t help but to take the notice
his features hewn and deeply lined
Drawing a map of where he'd been
red eyed he looked half blind
Something alone in his vacant stare
said It was me that he resembled
The thought had taken me a-fright
I looked hard, long and trembled
I saw my lover look over him too
noticed the hair might be the same
Except for straggling beard and decay
I had felt a deep sense of shame
Could that be what would happen to me
what fallen angel had led him astray
A nightmare vision of life’s full truth
eyes of pain in the heart they betray
Then my lover looked back upon me
her thoughts she sought hard to repress
How kind her teared eyes that hid the truth
from her lips that would never confess
Tate
Jan 13, 2012
Jan 13, 2012 at 6:13 PM UTC
This hot season
left the grass,
dry and arid
the roots struggled
for the straggling moisture,
as the the Sun
defied all ,
stronger or weaker
the dessicated faces
the wilting flowers
and shedding of leaves,
the unrest humanity
suffering from agony,
of all races,
the downtrodden's suffering,
and sagging *******
of a child's mother,
dying with hunger,
whose hands begged for
a morsel of a bread.
And,
the wind lifted,
the poet's poem
to the place unknown,
laden with love,
soft and pure,
grandeur and sublime,
mongering goodwill,
it was then that
I noticed an emotional deluge
when the sky poured down
droplets of rain,
as if, some one wept
away, far away, no where.....
that filled the air with the moisture
everywhere, here and there....
Jul 30, 2016
Jul 30, 2016 at 10:17 PM UTC
I am so hungry—though I will not eat.
I am so tired—though I will not sleep.
And to think just moments ago
I was breezing down the highway,
Speakers blasting, vibrating sweet
Rhythms along my thighs: It would
Make the sky weep.
I sit at a window and
for once my world is engulfed in total silence.
The sun shines through my window.
I’ve never seen a window so real.
Never have I fogged up the glass
with more zeal, as my adamant fingers
scribble an “M.” and it fades.
You see, I am just that—“M”
nothing defines me more acutely
than the letter
—how I desire to truncate
the remaining, straggling letters of its
completion—it is sinful.
Because, really, all I want is
to be alone, and ain’t that selfish?
Ain’t it selfish to desire silence
when the world is alive with the sounds of
love, song, laughter.
I reject those things.
Everything is temporary
and it seems easier to lose them
than to never have had them at all.
And, oh, it hurts.
So sick am I of being hurt.
Though it is easier to sacrifice
than to be sacrificed. And so I forsake thee,
sounds of the universe.
I shall sit in my quiet corner.
And lady time nor the remaining letters of my name shall be the wiser.
May 13, 2011
May 13, 2011 at 8:43 AM UTC
There is a pleasant silence in my head
And dreary pressure joins my dreary thoughts.
The color from my waking dreams turns grey
Likewise my cloudy vision fills with spots.
You cannot know how much relief I feel
For you, alas, have skipped and are not here.
You left my home and my bronze heart
And everything through illness came quite clear.
The tree outside my window stands the snow
To carry straggling dabs of wintry life.
I see more birds in frost than I had before
When summer, summer smothered us with strife.
You've left: my mouth is cracked a thousand miles.
The earth around, I've wrapped with my queer smiles.
Mar 5, 2011
Mar 5, 2011 at 8:16 AM UTC
The permafrost recedes and the animals peeking their heads out of the burroughs they were buried in and they begin their quest for a lover, to repopulate the species again and to feed after the long harsh winter, and to gain experience and memories of how to do so.
The frosty winds turn cool and the sun warms their faces and souls. The hope of meeting their potential partners are enough to defrost and soothe the ice on their coats, rendering them capable to breed. With their legs stretched and active, they search.
They hunt and breed for the whole spring within their respective community. The revirie of their population gaining on other predators give them a better chance for survival amongst all odds.
I have been buried in ice for thousands of years. I have been waiting for my turn to hunt and search for my lover, my community, and my wife. I have been straggling behind my species for a lifetime.
Is it my turn yet?
Is it my chance to do well amoungst the Mohikans?
I certainly hope so.
Happy Spring, poets.
Mar 27, 2017
Mar 27, 2017 at 11:24 PM UTC
Earthen desires,
these are diamonds,
that shield our veiled eyes,
trance like sheathed sward,
hidden in the mantle,
a top the mountain,
creatures lurk atop,
Deviled in the mist,
splattered in Lumios,
The crone and spit;
they really are a horrorshow,
Straggling around,
hovering,
hurtling toward,
*Unknown Territory!
Nov 14, 2013
Nov 14, 2013 at 10:17 PM UTC
It feels like ants are crawling over my hands and removing the skin to carry back to their hill.
My eyes are like two cotton ***** dry and heavy.
There is a blockage in my throat like a python has curled up in a ball right at the back of my neck.
And now my torso is no longer connected to my legs,
they are two separate entities.
One scrambling around the room trying to find something to do
while the other half lays stuck in bed, too heavy to even lift a skeletal finger.
The ants have take away all the skin and muscle from my hands to build their nest.
But it's not enough so they make their way down my throat, past the python, to my stomach, where they begin devouring me from the inside out.
Once all that’s left is a graveyard of bones,
the ants move along,
onto the next source for their ever-growing hill.
My skeleton is left to the elements,
well as much of the elements it can be exposed to laying in a pile of sheets and comforter.
I shed one last tear from my eye socket even though there are no tear ducts left for me to use.
My soul fades completely from the scene as the last straggling ant jumps from my skull and the python abandons the vertebrae left behind, needing a new food source to thrive.
A sad sack of bones,
what’s left of me lays in the bed as everything around it falls apart year after year.
Until all the decay is over and the process of rebirth begins.
Saplings shoot up through my ribcage
and flowers grow through the eye sockets where my tears used to fall silently.
Beauty replaces the feelings of death and dread as
the last piece of my soul is finally laid to rest.
Sep 21, 2018
Sep 21, 2018 at 11:16 PM UTC
You are pushing pressure down below my pulsing muscle
But I felt that force turn around
and push you away
You have the strength to fight against this wave
that has a karma affect taking place
And my straggling candies are melting
setting me free from this drowning sea
I'm wondering to myself
when is it time to
BURST AND BLOOM
into me.
Dec 6, 2012
Dec 6, 2012 at 3:53 PM UTC