July 30, 2011
A victim of second-hand breakdowns:
the simple explanation for my tolerance
of bad impressions— a fragile character made
under intoxicated conditions. Honey soaked words
dripping with ignorance; with a tongue like a nightmare,
a boy who never thinks for himself,
pointing a finger he can’t quite place,
with the distant smile of torn stars.

Red velvet drawn together by his nimble fingers,
a bow worthy of the clapping audience
that has shattered his ears. In a city of fools
he was careful and cool.
The closing scene, eagerly anticipated
and genuinely delivered.

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Lexie96 said...
Nov. 2, 2011 at 6:05 am

I love this... it's beautiful and it flows together amazingly... very good! I liked the part about being made under toxic conditions... that was a great line.

Check out my poem 'Sowing Poppies' sometime?

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