Living.

Count me down
snap me open
show me life exists
outside these inconsequential walls.
Squeeze me oranges – physical in their consciousness.
Slay me dejection that slavers when it tastes defeat
stand the sentinel –
sucking underfoot of functions need.

Bring me gratification
tinged with vertebral transparency

 

Poppy Taylor October 2014 ~xx~

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Truth

I hesitate on the cusp
of your newly liberated lips

listening as you mumble some delicacies served from a long
forgotten meal of pastiche.

I remind you how a white lie is still a subtle
shade of purgatory.
Truth matters; even when it’s clattering around
like some resonating ricochet mislaid inside its freedom.

 

Poppy October 26th 2014 ~xx~