

Applying gospelah, the famine of the written word: are there enough of them to spin a chinadoll out of the pale fabric of this meager paper-wall? —famine as thin as pourceline in a chinadoll's skin. . .Applying gospel
am I what your words want — on this river of cresting kettle- cups and tin — the rain &nbs


contrite for sore eyes gradually, the words that she is offering to me come to ends senselessly, in insensitivity, as I watch her become an angel in a stroke of electricity; for she (an obliterated) spoke of delicacy, through the burning eyes of the TVcontrite for sore eyes
—she, a screen incinerating seraph electro-cutes the love out of me to toast me back to whispering scinders of sincerity (smolders of ceneromancy)


Against the shyinggod help us, something is bound to set a precedent: one light is outAgainst the shying
you look like your light is out too, sitting outside the glare; eyes catch in shadow, cages of elegant glass
you pluck the light out in spite of itself, a spire to grant yourself its own twinkle going out with the best of you; your light. . .
the lights are out but everyone's home in this bulb a garden of electrons buzzes 'bout instead of flys— no hope of buzzing out, it's not light enough to worry
worrys, a yellow


making pun of Ignorance...Ignoring you never letting go but Pushing you awaymaking pun of Ignorance...
hating blanks getting closur' a fortune food of white some one blots out your face someone with lone- some wurd hands, inky dotting fingers touching where the notion of your eyelid lingers, settling the motion of your eye- lash- fingers
...Chess 03

Exoskeleton BluesA thick-wrapped night, where fog,Exoskeleton Blues
like weeds, had sprung
and drowned Decatur Street,
'cept for a few lit eateries;
spitballs of dotted light.
A figure, running
like The Man was licking
at its neck, a teary ribbon
down its cheek a-dripping
pooling at the throat.
Wet, rib-shaking sobs blew lungs
already straining from the run,
my heart a rabid, raving felon
hammering his bars.
His prints still smeared across my wrist,
his voice an earworm drilling fast
into my brain, I dove into the mist:
a veil of doors. &
Devious Comments
something I can do for you?
--
You were right about the stars: each one is a setting sun.
--
Fuse your Lit online with Cut Out & Keep at [link] - things to make and do!
FuseLit is plying its trade on Facebook and at myspace.com/fuselit - join us!
--
Fuse your Lit online with Cut Out & Keep at [link] - things to make and do!
FuseLit is plying its trade on Facebook and at myspace.com/fuselit - join us!
--
(you're welcome, in this case.)
You tell me my good things are crap and then go and fav the bad ones.
(Thanks.)
--
You were right about the stars: each one is a setting sun.
--
Dots and dandies dabbled, danced and diddled daisies downwards.
oh that was last December...it's fine now, I think...I hope at least?
Hope your head's OK
--
Hot Patootie, bless my soul!
[link]
you're welcome. you visit again...at the moment, my pieces are surrounded not with love but neglect. a frequent visitor might work wonders!
But I digress..
thanks for the
visit again someday!
Peg
--
Hot Patootie, bless my soul!
[link]
besides, flesh decays faster than yeast; who, then, is really running?
you aren't a very clever fox, are you?
or are you just crumbling?
you can't run forever.
--
"I've taken enough walks alone
to know how real nothing is."
~dystopian-dream-girl
--
love so deep, kills you in your sleep
the real reason i came...
is this who i think it is?
--
love so deep, kills you in your sleep
--
"I've taken enough walks alone
to know how real nothing is."
~dystopian-dream-girl
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