r a p e
t o m w r i g h t
You waft away when bold stands deteriorate and i know you're afraid.
i have always known it can be smelt
in your hair in
dead skin and cells
go on and admit your weakness
where were you in 36?
was it all a dream?
obscuration of the internal eye by the satanic
a dislocation of sand but
reject all symbols!
listen to my confessions -
(The brick veneer so thin and delicate
but life the sordid canvas)
"fingerpainting is so much fun"
a litany i heard once waking from a sickness
warm fingers. Smell, taste and not learn the god-granted definition until the
age of 12?
a tender adolescent. so very very eager.
you are on my digital camera
But only a pair of eyes.
© copyright 2004, tom wright, all rights