Thursday, September 13, 2007
There is no doubt that these men are burden w/debt.
Spines facing out, dust lining the trimmings. Self telling the selves not to trip off of the ladder. Could beginnings empty possibilities angled for the transfusion, roasting of whole coffee beans. The cleaning of the brushes. How does one learn to clean if they are never taught?
Terrible ideas that might be true. Terrified over the constant subjection to rejection. My monsters would not serve as a leash to consequence. Chills & shakes shivering my core to the edge of a path where I exhale & step into the lawn.
In my consciousness this response rips ribs from my sternum sucking the meaty ribbons flossing w/veins, emptying into the truthful mouth. The eyes are the objects meant for lying.
Lovers treating lovers like they are already departed lovers loved no longer.