the ‘need’ to possess.
we strip our senses
with fake morality.
we quench our fires
with our limited concepts.
we wound our very love
with the image we present.
we defile our truth
with the lies we settle for…
we choose fear over freedom,
and so break our own wings!
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you who would judge
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hurricane, screaming pain,
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hands seem to grow
the maps neath the eyesgo from destiny to love.love that had no horse,but worked a mule.and kingdoms only thus,manure, and sweat.your body perfume,rust of a moth’s wings…hymnals made of dust,simple words, bent nails.love’s sap driedon your thighs and lips.no names, no images,just small hands seeking touch!