little drops accumulate, considering what is severed
& fished from what has been splintered. Bottled palindromes
poled to heating lamps, buckled fast to glances & electricity.
Hierarchies sweatered & softened as time continues,
though my understanding of it differs, or is sensible & nervous
& therefore microscopic next to your motions. A liar sits inside
scratching at what is soft. Reasoning this like rain, I will
sit across from you and carry my face through what you believe.
No Help for That | Jackie Clark 
Leave a comment