Pretending to be drunker than you are, the popular girl pushes with her
grandiloquent words and toast haired Catholic school lassies gettin’
sassy over Natty Ice and tight rolled joints of dirt weed,
redemption from the drug dealer in Cambridge that
the blond bitch and I tried to pirate that time
me laying on the horn, flaxen hair female slipping out the back and
we never put out for drugs or documented our sins.
at least I never did.
No mistaking the
wonderful glow of
content children and
the right thing done
maybe at last.
It would go.
Giving up on turning a phrase.
Concentrating on turning a page.
by your memory.
Truth no longer naked
more like partially exposed
no longer telling my secrets,
lots less truth to tell
no longer naked.
You’re a mirror and a secret.
A sin and a seduction.
Freedom under deconstruction.
On a miracle quest.
Ripped to shreds amongst litigious gravity.
I am too.
Because I guess I’d rather be
Multi-passionate, Investigative Creatress (aka artist)
survival is triumph enough ~harry crews
Sexuality, Spanking, Spirituality
My attempt to listen to every song I own
Transient Guests We Are
Happiness may be blue. But clarity is clear.
All Content Copyrighted. All Rights Reserved.
little bits of words swirling
Becoming the Artist I Want to Be - Fiction, Poetry, and Essays
Kicking and Screaming
Otherwise the night is too dark
Problems, Solutions, and Near Escapes
Mysteries: Love, Sexuality, Spirituality and Life
giving myself a good talkin to