withering playfully into
impostors
flawlessly mechanical and efficient
like the ancient art of letters
rubbing our shadows off walls
mind gliding hill sweeping
heels slip sweating
the skin
this inherited reality
writes in its own language
writing in each other like the
flowers growing in your blood
...
..
3 comments:
Very nice writing.
"rubbing our shadows off walls"
"flowers growing in your blood"
Perfect.
I hear his non-feet
tip toeing over the invisible banana peels
as god falled over my resting body
waiting forever
for this
to make me mean it
like only you can.
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