Thursday, March 25, 2010


plush plush like a kid's
that turquoise box was supposed to take you to college
now sits with fifteen years

of skin
and knives

How did these two end up opposite from the feelings left by basement smiles?
Words sent over twist tongues about torment,
but nah nah nah! Do we even know?

Left to sit with heads back, and talk about Dad
laugh at the things that make us cry.

Hey yo! I've said this is our lot, lets go with it!
Nai said it, naio heard it,
but we feel weak in our dark days.
You've a hand to hold, and me an inside smile.
It won't be pushing much longer the knowing of
everything will be alright, ju just when we die.
Remember that? The spinning and ringing cup feelings we got
with every finger pushed into my eyes
bringing or surfacing what ain't to be believed in
whats not there, but whats felt and always known.

The aged man and his wife compliment me on the lawn,
but have they seen the tunnel of purple and yellow boxes?
It is a hallway that drags you to, then through,
a feather checkered end.

I don't mind your chuckle, cuh cuh can tell me to like it.
But week then week, not always the same
good to have friends and laughing

a pin poked egg shell, and two lips-a-breathing
squeeze out nest and yolk
to be decided
you can have the former home for your mind
paint it
or pull it out
when ya need to be reminded that you can
embellish the past
and look back over your shoulder to feel a warmth never there

Ch ch I know you've got your flashlight, can see it with mine.

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