crawdad
when info seeps along a string,
electric paths bend and weave.
yet in that leeway, a finite space
where links are forged and not replaced.
the morning past a dream that's shared
a glance, a smile, a hope laid bare
height's not what it looks-to-be
entice the sky with mud and streams
ride a horse in the night, eyes flit behind screens
it's (a prime) by (2 to the 3) every dream
surprised by how mistaken i always seems to be
scorned on the side; apparently you're helpless as "baby".
taboo makes things more interesting, not so much to me.
when facts you feel, you fail to see, if they are known to be devastating.
get the fork out
olive my life how i want
no chedda for ya boi
if he's gonna be a fondouche
reptilian appendages discarded in the leaves
a figure of a skeleton, not hearts worn on the sleeves
skeleton vines reach out to the side
for a short time mingle, intwined
til the prune peels back the bark, where i hide
the protection of a barrier,
when osmosis could be scarier
the lining of my cells,
like no where in hell
I naturally walk at an uneven pace, not because my legs are different sizes.
For then all I'd need, a pair of shoes in which I'd comfortably stride in.
curved inwards,
concave cacophony of cries
don't ever let it reach your eyes
Not a possession I have that isn't taken for granted,
Would rather be holding hands than shoulder
To shoulder with pieces of granite
Eventually ashes to ashes, cuffs more full of dust
Than minds pushed to action by greed and lust