Impenetrable Lessons

October 24, 2012 § 1 Comment

educate
your
face honey slut

Competitive Nature

October 24, 2012 § Leave a comment

shut up cunts
can’t
school their dumb brains

Definition of Insanity

October 24, 2012 § Leave a comment

ditto ditz
how
many times told

The Reassurance of Plain Jane

September 17, 2012 § Leave a comment

the problem
with loving
the Builder

intimacy deep ends on honesty

inevitably
other projects
set him free

gifts like
pussy

after all

don’t win
the prize

unless

the prize=alone

what a
lash out
jealous bitch

I take words
everywhere-
places
I know I wont like

he reminds me~~~
I’m just a child

you told her my name
and it wasnt
your baby

but it sure was plain
so thank you
just the same.

Sore Places

July 13, 2012 § 3 Comments

riding past Ramsdell Rd.
the post office parking lot
with rows of white beetle trucks
idle wait to trundle their bundles.
 
missed my usual whisking chariot
too bruised by the night thus
over-snoozed the button
 
the builder has me up late
stacking ohs and ahs
over my sore places

Missing Thing

May 17, 2012 § 4 Comments

Kind of see
some
thing missing

some thing seen
some
missing thing

saw and un-
seen
missing thing

For He Whose I Am

March 28, 2012 § 2 Comments

The bus had been 19 hours and 12 minutes of wasted time.

“What were you thinking?”
“I don’t know. I obviously wasn’t thinking, judging by your reaction.”
“Go home.”
“Okay.”

She was now seated on the bench at the bus station, under the pretense of waiting for the next bus. In her hands, she held the pocket watch.

“That one.”
“This one? Miss, this one is an expensive watch.”
“I know.”
“Ok. Cash or charge?”
“Is it extra to engrave?”
“No, Miss. It’s complimentary. I will get you a sheet of paper.”

For he whose I am.

Counting her money again, she hesitated from buying a ticket. Why did she think he would come and stop her? Just because she came so far? Held back this long, her tears were heavy, overripe and finally fell like devastating bombs on the dry skin of her hands.

Feeling better after her cry, she stood up with purpose to buy her ticket and return home. She would write the whole thing off as an experience, an adventure, and fodder for her work. Maybe she would even get a book out of it…

“Violet!” Then, he was there.

Where Am I?

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