I’m floating, but am I flying? I drift just high enough to see the catfish clawing at the 12 grain bread loaf. I feel aloof. I’m magnetized towards number One, fighting this endless drift that I try to shake off like salty beach water. It clings. I can taste it in my mouth. The door- not the door. The Drift listens as it hovers me over the roof, and plants me by the window. They’re smiling. I knew they would be. My vision blurs, I heave, trying to catch my breath before it escapes and they notice I’m here. I’m not here, I’m not here, I never was.
I've gotten a request to update the blog... sorry guys, I'm new to this!! I don't have any new stories to post, but I will dig through the archives and maybe pull out a poem, eh? ::10 minutes later:: Ok, I believe I've found one. It's called Parts For Cento. A cento is a poem that basically collages other lines of poems/stories/whatevers that are either yours, or someone else's. Enjoy. Parts for Cento My face is a map of the world- suffocate me all you need, I won’t breathe but it’s okay I trick myself into thinking that it's going to be different this time it’s always just shades of the same You hear she’s a beautiful girl No more words just the sound of resplendent tongues colliding.
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