January 30, 2010
divine disarray
The mess, its substanceFor a weary soulLightning, like moonbeamsThat led the wayFeastingmy body found nourishmentFrom meager hayRotten juices upon eager lipsblood on sidewalksand tangled hairLingering fragrance wrapped in dirty sheetsTainted messages delivered in empty streetspain and embarrassment all our mistakesMost say the mess is just disgraceTo me, mess is companyIts bounty, my feast.
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