Thursday, February 18, 2016

February 18


1 comment:

  1. I wriggle my back
    and you poor
    creatures

    cannot stand your ground

    you staple your twigs,
    brick, stones, metal
    on my back

    I shake them off

    crumble them in little piles
    imagine you cowering
    on my surface

    worried what goes in under my skin

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