deep but steam floats away by Indigo Tempestaafter silence; after meals and held hands and goodbyes, i am waiting. the girl was harmonious: a little one, the kind who still could.
listen now this is more important than the last thing i said
once remembered, i read poems at the bar while i wondered about the outside. is he talking to himself?-- is she a lesbian?-- it doesn't matter ! but still the thoughts come like indiscriminate whitewash
and my neurons like tainted topsoil bear blue fruit and are ill.
i am sick with judgement confused by love and dogged by gruesome hatred :(when can i be alone with love?-- i am not strong enough to step into that ring (he was not talking to himself after all...god
did you hear me when i said all those things?--they were not important really i think
the last thing i see when i look up is a red van that reminds me of a family that was never mine
the only thing i regret is not being all of this all that has been used for an anchor but never went to sea herself and never even wanted to be a boat to begin with
and never began with herself and never began
but the sun bakes me like a potato in my skin 04/16/2002 Posted on 04/16/2002 Copyright © 2025 Indigo Tempesta
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