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ms finch's journal \

& the sky is perfect clear



& the sky is perfect clear
By ms finch on 08/31/2005
Viewed: 508
Reviews: 5
Rating:

so what does one do / once guts have spilt
out on to / the floor


this i give you / my heart /

& blood drips through my fingers

there isn't much to offer

i have taken all i have to give

now take this from me

talk about shape shifters

& funny how people don't see me

& how you looked right through me

walked right through me / & didn't notice

it's all i have to give / i hold my heart

higher / blood runs down my arms / body

pulses / some where you have for gotten

loaded down with / loaded / armloads

poetry / is that what you wanted





& i've decided that poetry is any thing
that isn't love /

& i give you strong emotion / / a thought
on the end of my hand as it moves between my legs
oh yes / you / quite the memory /
funny how people for get people /






& to day the weather turns / / again / closer to "that" side
of the sun / / & i dream of warmer climes / again / i dream



& to day / yes ter day / the realization / of absolute truth
a body of sickness / / what is this / i've been given

so the mind talks out loud again / always telling me
what it thinks / / & it thinks i should try to get better
stop fucking around / start taking / / care


it's the little things / a walk now & then / stretch the soul
less / / stress / /




but the body refuses / some how / it likes the pain /
it's taken some getting used too /


& up stairs / children / toss turn / & in my bed
a small brown boy sleeps / waits for his father to return
time time less in his small world / / a father who travels / /
we adjust in our infinite ways / he who comes & he who goes
always returns / / & see i don't wish for time to pass too quick lee


i rhythm out / distorted / / heart beat
feel my own tired ness / move slow est


i can't hold back time / no matter how hard i try
yet / they say / some say / time heals


& i'm not sure if i believe that now
because i think i've for given / for gotten
those tres passes / over it / doesn't bother me
any more / /

it's the sins // body me this / / my own past
can't be for given / / & mesh this out


gone now / / most of it blur / blur catches up
coats the eyes / weakens



up stairs in the white tile bath room
the heater runs /

© By ms finch On 8/31/2005 3:33:25 AM
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