Over-Seasoned.

Americana Injustica

I fancy myself,
a skilled juggler,
in spite of,
a few missing fingers,
against the obvious fact,
that this circus act,
totally and completely lacks,
any balanced composure;
I consider myself,
as apparitional,
a limbo’d spirit,
in defiant refusal,
against a calling to home,
I fought the urge to return,
to the warmth of the womb,
like I was exceptional;
I call myself,
an over-seasoned,
veteran,
when I tell,
of where I’ve been,
violations,
dissolved into,
every stitch made,
into this skin.

View original post

Advertisements

Wanna Say Something?

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s