The block,
The chip on the shoulder,
The crack in the attitude,
The death by the water;
Nouns and prepositions and nouns;
chitin carcasses;
countless for the character of dead precision,
to flake out as I flake off fears;
in this lonely windowsill...
Purple poesy,
the color for the bruise of affections,
so much in so little time;
make you this connection here,
tie it there and in yonder years;
I ride on low tide.
[22:27|06.12.011] ©c.thomas.carter
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