whoosh

my heart is an escalator. hold onto the hand rails. between street talk I try to explain to my mother the difference between literary and literal.

micro terrors and disability dreaming. the punches my dreams pack need bigger bags. i am wave after wave after waving good bye. i am catching up on daydreams of innuendo between coffee and buisness.

i am lust in rubics cube. i am five colours of desire with no co-ordination. i trip over my estimations. my emotion is dress sizes larger than my hips. i shake at the thought of your honesty. bury it with the coals in the morning. my boxes don't have rooms for matches. chase your tail round a redhead instead.