Sunday, October 5, 2008

thought broth

The inexplicable quench for exsitence
The clay flesh of what is breathing
and sour taste of morning breath
the milk that stains our cheeks
almost daily..
The frustration of cuticle breakage from lack of vitamins,
from the lack of luck
and my body craves to healthy
the pits of my eyes constantly wander side to side
left to right,
my spine dries and curves
to become crabwise
...lets trust this face
its surface for hands to clamour
stitch my fingers with his hair
decorate me
scab me entirely