Morphing Verse

I try to write poems.

Thursday, June 19, 2014

Habit

Habit gives rise
to a funny callus
that coats every
nerve end

content: all
is a brush
until an itch,
deeper, some

splinter

makes me file,
rejoice in cherry raw
skin, bruised
skin at every

touch skin,
plush.
Posted by Peripheral at 1:51 PM
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      • I may have HIV
      • In the seminars we learn that conversation is idle.
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