I stabbed the moon
with a wet paintbrush
i had never used before
I watched the blackness
of its heart
spill over the earth
like colors
off a young prostitute's new underwear
dissolving in the rain,
the night all penises hide
with a wet paintbrush
i had never used before
I watched the blackness
of its heart
spill over the earth
like colors
off a young prostitute's new underwear
dissolving in the rain,
the night all penises hide
I want to say that I never hide from harsh realities, but that's not true. I've been doing it my whole life. Now it seems as though every nook and cranny in which I once hid has closed. There is no where else to hide and I come face to face with myself. The blackness is mine. The underwear. The penis.
ReplyDeletei have no idea what you mean (i smile) but yet i love it. how can that be so? that seems counterintuitive, doesn't it? somehow i feel for the prostitute and i like her in her new underwear. there is some obscure promise there. plus the penises are hiding. i imagine a prostitute could use a break (of the spirit) some time.
ReplyDeletexo
erin
Annie,
ReplyDeleteProstitution is at an all time high with the commercialization of education and the subsequent lack of money making opportunities if you happen to afford one....the blackness as you say is ours...the underwear the penis..how long can we keep running
Erin,
thank you for stopping by...i'm not sure if she can avail the break (from the spirit or soul) opportunity but i'm sure she can feel her body as only her's for a night....what else does she have to live for or live by ?