[Scribbles] poems in progress, 07.09
Pitfallen, glass lungs of panic
Skull deep in your quicksand eyes
Grasping for the roots of your lashes
A fist full of eyeliner
A foot hold in your tear duct
Bat and blink, a treacherous wink
The jewel of your ruins
The cursed treasure
….
Pitfallen, a living stone
Skull deep in her quicksand eyes
Grasping for errors, glass lungs shatter
A fist full of lashes, blinking
Choosing between the jewel
In her tear duct, out of reach
Or pulling myself out of the breach
…
Of perfect flesh and bone
A delicate mesh of muscle tone
Memories refresh yet unknown
A tender cautiousness in her moan
Begs a witness to be shown
What flesh cannot convey alone
