Creature of Comfort

September 10, 2010
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Willow voices calling me from the corners
They rake over my ears
With soft cool fingers
They tell me what I crave
This animal craving I don’t deny.
They sooth my turmoil
The turmoil that sits pulsing
like a cauldron of poison in the cavern
How it feels to be wrapped in these cashmere sentiments.
Hanging in the voices, waiting to be dropped
But pushing out the thought of gravity.

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