because you are smartyou think they think you are dumbforget what they thinksqueamishness serves the weak onesthere's no valor in squeamish
she's a vampireshe has no skills or a clueold enough to knowbut the blood damaged her brainnow she sits and drinks coffee
no one comes to readwhich, for this author, is goodbecause i can skipinstead stare out the windowat the crossing power lines
some days I am rashlike a grumpy household petthat never gets outgives you disdainful glancesand you know there's no repair
fifty five emailsover two hundred foldersa system of lifefor those who fear the livingand interface through a screen
each of us decendsfrom that ancient átomos primitive adamwith mass in the nucleussurrounded by social laws
they say that it's truethere's prozac in the watermore serotoninpisses through city filtersand fish are soaked with prozac
this cat keeps walkingpushing into my keyboardpurring like she knowsas if she aims to repairthis human disconnection
something about ricemy friend Davey can't cook ithe burns the bottomthen the pan always has thisshaded pattern of burnt rice
they say take your lifeseriously, seize the day,you only live oncebut I say make life a jokeso that you and yours may laugh
two forty year oldsold buddies from years gone bysit in the kitchentwo computers side-by-sidesharing funny videos
the test is overclose your composition bookput down the pencillearning only goes so farlife can be lived without books
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inject the great booksfill your time with the paperrest your eyes on wordsfuller lips, fewer wrinklesa thin nose and full blond hair
the interviewerin his purposeful wrinkleslooks like he's asleepso intelligent he nodsit's true he knows the answers
last year was betterthe sun imparted more heatthe clouds were rounderall was easier to painteasier to capture God
she talks without teethher dentures shift out her vowelslips weakly curbingdetermination to speakbut her eyes still light ideas
all is wet with rainthey say the world is dyingmy arms around youyou say the world is ours foreverand I choose to believe you
they wait in the linegroceries in a push cartshe points at Esquirehe rolls his eyes, shove the carthands a pack of gum to her
giant fresh baked treatthe children love to eat youyour sweet insides mushwith each bite they take of youin their love of sugar lumps
we used to be closeshared secrets and ideassimilar life goalsand then I became wickedwe split up and talk no more
how her lips curve downwhen she sees you walking byher desk stacked with fileseyes no longer registershe controls naught but her mind
she stands to one sideher legs shapely as crib notesa single vein sprungshattered purple featheringfrom her shorts to her ankle
grandpa's makeup kitdusty old unicycleand juggling ballsneglected in the closetwaiting for grandkids to care
it has been three yearswhen I see you I feel ittime has passed betweenbut I still hate that you liveand never want to see you
my lovely Betty,you told me not to see youthat you need your spacebut I can't help followingor using your web password
curling all the Qsminding the peas and carrotsraising the split endsso one may find his own truthamid the clash of this world
disconnect my mindfrom the underground cableput my feet outsidelet my body follow themforce my eyes to see the world
mitt on his fingershe leans against the chain linkshouting to the standshe wonders why his feet sweatand if he will catch her eye
eyes chilled iciclebecause I refuse to sleepRest is the wickedand I will not give him famethough I yawn and roll back tired
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