Core Temperature
-
I'm feeding my gut
purposefully, intentionally, accidentally positive
my split-ended hair drips dying ink
I am the dirty fork in the silverware drawer
with a hand up the drain pipe
(but my eyes on my own knees
wishing like hell I could walk again)
would I fair well in the pouring rain hail sleet snow
(split-ended drips of dying sunshine)
you are my nourishment,
you have become
my core temperature
-
I'm weather-craving again
wishing for the stopping rain
I am the dirty fork in the silverware drawer
(piling up brain cells on the back steps
next to the broken beatle carcass
and the dismembered rag dolls
who knew my eyes)