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the glass hung in midair,
silent falling to pieces inside of a generous second gravity, the scapegoat it
was always the four of us: catastrophe, hindsight you, me: addicts,
purveyors twelve steps backwards Don't come in here with bare
feet you said You could hurt yourself little did you know I've walked
on eggshells night and day, after day you pleaded your case stuck
something in the door but even you will find it's dead-weight like that
carpet you love sweeping under hell bent on logic, I objected because
objects are closer than they appear living life as a doorstop besides,
logic speaks in tongues and I don't own a bible grabbed my map and
headed south to where the sun don't shine got lost and before I was
found I had overstayed my welcome could have walked but I hitched
a ride with a straight line who told me It's faster from A to B turns
out faster isn’t better, and I like curves but this wasn't even my house, and there you were throwing
stones Author’s Bio: Jennifer Thompson likes to think she hasn't
sold out to The Man. When she isn't writing computer manuals for a
living, she enjoys writing poetry, fiction, and humor. Somehow along
the way, she has managed to have her haphazard ramblings picked up
by Adbusters and SMUT. |
