all those things
I have lost —
the left side of me,
the right path, and
all the pieces in between —
if I were better versed
at my own construction, I’d be
scrambling up and down myself
looking for those pegs
and fitting them to my holes.
and I think about you
and wonder where you fit.
you’re a part of me
that I’ve never understood,
or taken the time to understand.
some night when I’m not so sore,
some night when my flesh is stronger,
I will look for you in the hollow of my bones.
some night I’ll find you, then put you where I need you,
in some place I dearly need to fill.
Dark Matter 
June 26th, 2005 at 5:39 am
Re: you are a machine
poetry is frequently the last resort of drugged out limpies. 😀
thanks.
June 26th, 2005 at 5:39 am
Re: you are a machine
poetry is frequently the last resort of drugged out limpies. 😀
thanks.
June 26th, 2005 at 5:22 am
you are a machine
Imagine writing like this coming out a drugged up limpy. Rock on.
June 26th, 2005 at 5:22 am
you are a machine
Imagine writing like this coming out a drugged up limpy. Rock on.
June 26th, 2005 at 4:10 am
yeah… man, know that one, more than once…
cool… like it… the vicodine is being good to you I see… hee hee
June 26th, 2005 at 4:10 am
yeah… man, know that one, more than once…
cool… like it… the vicodine is being good to you I see… hee hee