at the end of the parkways- all
surrender. 10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1.
nobody can help
but wonder about you.
demand my attention. i am to
wonder about you. my lovely version
travel to that empty lot of
the only son of an only son,
know, say yes,
move forward, then disperse.
i am athena-
queen of the world and it holds me back;
darting blank stares, irreparably boring eyes.
mine have feelings
the rest are boring real things
and i feel the feel as if it's real- my arsenal.
all else is
something lesser-than, something disposable.
who forgets about what it is that they can't change?
tell-all. can you believe
this sickness? holding on, because the itch
doesn't figure out how to let go. or maybe
is too stubborn.