PAD 12

I could spend lifetimes
curled in upon myself
swimming myself out through
the ocean of me.

PAD 11

Things I own:

A faulty heart,
scarred skin stretched over life-tensed bones.
A home,
old and getting older, but with a solid foundation-a warmth.
A terminally weak stomach,
knuckles spring broken, clenched against daylight.
A car,
small, but bigger than it looks, t.a.r.d.i.s. on wheels.
A brain that digests knowledge,
chipped and encrusted nail beds clawing for anything to hold me up.

Steam

You are another copper heart in a world of copper pieces. A hydraulic pump. A tin filament sorting through impurities. You are the crankshaft on the zeppelin mother-ship; your flywheel is spinning rapidly, uncontrolled. Break our ribcages open and watch our cogs countdown. Watch us become obsolete. Watch our mechanisms rust till they're irreplaceable. Watch us run dry, watch us die.

NOV PAD 2010 - Day 4

Because veins are not highways
I cannot travel the tips of your outstretched fingers
the inside curve of your elbow
sloping under your breasts to your heart.