captblacktoe

there are these moments when you think " is this is really my life, what next" i don't know which makes me feel worse that when i was in arelationship i asked that alot or that only when it has ended do have i taken a step towards changing it. why do we fall into rhythms or laziness when we see ever answer a foot out of reach and just work so hard to hold onto what you have instead of taking the chance to reach out and grab what could be next.


here's a poem started off someone else's first two lines, this is free style writing no editing taking place live with a very tired blacktoe.

"i want to hear the end of the story as if it weren't mine" want to hear old men's voices push past my lips, taste the difference thirty years and a thick coat of tar across teeth makes. i want to watch fingers twisted by time scribble my words, in foreign script dying for translation dying for one moment when she will kiss my forehead with sympathy and care like those i've watched her lift from sprials so deep only the forests in her eyes can..... i don't like where this is going shall i try again.

here is a magnet poem:
She teaches mornings to blossom
In between the cracks in liquid glass
Showering minds with burning summer winds
While her tongue slices wild flowers into bouquets of even