There is fiction, a lifelong fiction I created in spite of myself ...
love from a storybook created simply by desire, desire to satisfy,
desire to escape, desire to give another her idea of love
and inevitably to find the giving empty.
Then I desired you.
Thursday, November 6, 2014
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
And Wacky Am I
And now wacky am I, I thank you, mother, for the days I take no pill; the oak table that folds upon itself, a hinge, a turn, a hidden b...
-
Walked past, by your place today, in the neighborhood, you know, scouting poetry at a bum academic show of a score of miserable poets'...
-
My country, 'tis of thee, If thou hadst the quiet pride of integrity, of strength and of courageous intensity, Thy leaders all, all m...
-
Thank you for joining in this journey with me. Do you hate it when someone calls some simple pencil scratches on paper accelerated into a bo...