Poetry & Prose


This contorted mess is all we have against the negative Farenheit I won’t duck from the wind I’ll stand by this wreck until creative expression appears in it to you my words contradict the creeds but subtlety aside screw instinctual behavior I’m already alive in the future where we laugh in retrospect because I can’t even keep straight how many “two kinds of people in this world” there are each morning I find myself peering through the arcade from a new position I never know when the pattern will come to my attention but it’s not anything you or I can see and then you can’t argue with me because once I crashed to the ground unconscious and for those few seconds I was all you could think about and moments like that are what fill the void so on this cold night when your car breaks down in an empty parking lot in the freezing cold while the engine’s steam curls under the hood and the car alarm stutters don’t tell me to go find somewhere warm while you wait for the tow truck this is you falling to the ground and neither of us can see it but I can feel where I’m needed and it’s between your gloveless hands and the steering wheel that’s not turning anymore tonight and tomorrow you’ll need me in some other way but I’ll see the world differently and I’ll offer myself in a new language that we haven’t spoken yet.

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