there is comfort in language
in the finite boundaries of a definition
if I could only articulate the outline
of a concept
of a feeling
I could extract it
put it in a jar
place it on display
a menagerie of ghosts
bred in captivity
meatless
skinless
they spill through the bars
and back into my veins
tell me your name
tell me your name
View User's Journal
|
|||||||||||||||
|
|||||||||||||||
