Thursday, July 30th, 2015

a cunning displacement of the virtues cutting into my cheek in the searing slap of millenias steaming cup of reality that sits on my top shelf
breathe to me once again the worry of your cumbersome bedsheets and how every wrinkle became the embodiment of the endeavor of desire and will
allow me to scrape the accumulation of the hours upon hours of self pity that left hunger on my forearms and the need of refreshment in the girl who deemed self proclaimed ballerina who aimed to give the audience a chance to dance upon their toes and leer
my mothers detachment sought to carve settlement and bargain into the echo of my worthless aura that has been croaking at the doorstep for a chance to step into the line that others so carelessly brushed with their curled toes and outlived in prose in two or three
a pulse that rehearsed the regeneration of the slightest feeling of an echo that sprang back the words of a foregathering that at least would speak to the inner of my bristled sleeves that are so utterly cold despite the knowledge that I have been sprung from the remnants of a crumbling ground that disguises as stable
nothing claimed but the refrain from the quivering light that sought in the future a soft lighting in a obscure japanese shop of trinkets of objects so rare they seek to lunge straightforward into la Luna but never take root long enough to become a regular day by day occurrence
instead it crumbles rapidly before i could take the soul of the quill in my viens to mark the date set forth of the desecration of the simplicity of luminosity when she walks down the cigatette littered pathway to dig into my mind the sensation of a god forsaken fuck and run


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