

SimplicityAn algebraic universe, she sits devising formulae for each inhale one solution per bold variable, and in the centera pomegranate.Simplicity
Enveloped by that organized chaos, seeds await within that warm, dark cavern A marriage gone to ruin, secret smiles men given up for lent, laughter, lipstick.


Red EarthKiss me hard because this could be (Forever, never, ever) The last of our hit and run consistency, Our sudden impassioned lunacy, My last desperate attempt to keep myself from falling or flying, because its such a long way down.Red Earth
Swathed in corn-flower jealousy, my hands are to my ears eyes shut against the stars and the sky and you. I cant ignore these itching wingtips forever, but its such a long way down, its such a long way down.
(When was the last time an empty sky caught you?)


37I say that my lucky number is thirty-seven, because at some stupid carnival thing in middle school, there was this betting game (little gamblers and their parents, go automated horse go, win win win) and I chose the one with thirty-seven on its painted-on saddle, and I won 11 tickets.37
(When people would ask what my lucky number was, I'd say seven, take away the three in the tens place, because a real lucky number is secret. The earth was built in seven days, I'm told, and that seven is a good lucky number. But it's not mine.)
Or maybe it was because my mother wanted me to play soccer. When the uniforms were han


InspirationI shouldn't read poetry when I'm away from you.Inspiration
When I'm with you, I can sit by your computer chair, put my cheek against your thigh until you put a hand on my head, saying to me that you will be just a minute, you have no attention for speech, that you are in crisis, conflict, dying--no, no, not you. There's the inevitable triumph, and you swivel your chair to face me, open your arms. "What's wrong, hun?" But I can't tell you. I'm too busy burying myself in the cloth of your shirt, breathing you in, memorizing- untangling the pretty words that inspiration has bur
--
I make mistakes, I am out of control and at times hard to handle. But if you cant handle me at my worst, then you sure as hell dont deserve me at my best. - Marilyn Monroe
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