Another one about the 'incident'

(written on Oct., 2, 2011)

At long last

my little book and I

an amateur style

for amateur prose

the streets look inviting

well-lit

the night is playing coy

it has an unexpected temper

an appetite for lost girls

with the address to

independence in their pockets

its a boys club club

but girls drink for free

**

stuck between same and different

I study the line

that marks an

abnormal stillness

the calm before the storm

Is all ugliness transfered (?)

I fear that I will trickle

the hate

through my words

and my movements

that my love

will be that much more restrained

that the solitary experience

will reinforce walls

barbed wire around my eyes

If you can, does that mean you are closer to?

Guilt by functionality

Is every man a gun or a holster?

Maybe tomorrow you can call me beautiful

but tonight (and maybe tomorrow)

forget that my body exists

love what can't be broken