Friday, March 2, 2012


you're pretty funny
but you are sad
because you sort of
just go and act, bend
so easily but i suppose
it is not your fault
you, with the putty
the frame of your soul
is weathered and old,
the meat inside of it
fetal and

your face is glowing
so beautiful of
greens and pinks
the pretty colors
that never seem to
look any less
bright and they
draw me to you every
single night because
everything flatters you
as i look through this
glittery, but thinned
silky perception

you sink me, but i like it
the warmth as i drown is
comforting because i am
fully covered, toe to hair
with your uncertainty, frailty
your sort of, here
sort of