Saturday, September 15, 2012

if birds flying high ever know how we feel -


We have just finished work on something that will change the miniscule.

We have just reordered the rock bottom to fit our egos.
We have let go of our good fortune, our blessings, our social status, our rather normal breathing patterns.
We have just started building the outpost.


Gathered are our sticks and stones, in front of archaic bones, with words that will hurt them.

Summoned are orgasmic flips and throws, to promiscuous thrones, with verbs that will deflate them.

The world will not change. We will.
Breathe in. Then out.

The Pope is here today. Roads back home were all closed. We made it though. We always do. 

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