smorgasbord of poetry, photos, political hairballs...MOTEs "More energy, grit and real life in them than 96.8% of the bullshit that comes into the Corpse."
Sunday, September 16, 2018
soft splits
She thinks yoga quit the answer
She's thought square circles before
She's a self describing spiral
She's doubleparked on my lap
She thighs
She found her lovely
Me I squeezed her hand and gave my space
To admire her endless back
I used to orbit her spinning silver pole
As money flew at her ankles in gusts
All I had were precious metal flowers
When the autumn curled up my heart
No magic stretches rejoinder geometry awry
As she drifts from our moment
I'm left in this thought bubble
Never so inadequate my attempts to keep
What won't be tethered
Her wind her spine hair swept
She does splits and cleaves the day
She splits so softly
And sits on keys like a phoenix egg
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