Sunday, April 7, 2013

and i am terrified by you
you are the North Korea button, 
my skin is 
yellow soil across the line.

you are some sort of star and your gravity
pulls them in from millions of miles.
i'm a few lightyears away-

my eggs are in one basket and yours
are already fuzzy chicks.

i am as pink, soft, and
weak as the the inside of my wrists
[as outdated as the oxford comma]

sometimes i am as disorganized as 
a half finished

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