Why is there nothing to say anymore?
The grey we inhale bleaches
the words on our chlorine breaths;
and the effort of every breath
But this is how it works:
we're on a carousel and
the animals have been replaced
by the spines of debutantes and gigolos;
and with every revolution
their vertebrae snap
and we make a wish.
I wish . . .
"I have nothing to say," she says.
"I have a bulimic tongue," he responds.
she smiles. "You have an anorexic soul."
© Copyright 2016 paradocs1967. All rights reserved.
Paste the link to picture in the entry below:
Paste the link to Youtube video in the following entry:
Cannot annotate a non-flat selection. Make sure your selection starts and ends within the same node.
An annotation cannot contain another annotation.
There was an error uploading your file.