SEX. Followed by,
by goura fotadar
I’m allowed again to note
it’s been so long …
I walked alone
along that path,
their bus tickets, so I wouldn’t
have to walk all the way back to shelter. A foreign state, that had,
become like the mostly built comfort of home, honed. Now I sue-durr
in the heat of home; the shades draw; the indoor used water adding
to the cool; and the fan almost forgotten barely whirring; and now
when he pulls out; he’d wish, steal that it was SEX; but instead
when he pulls out of the location my long-standing appetite staring
like the ripples of water that never cease for sum time : disappears.
I’m not sure what’s going on : but
perhaps he’s the one that’s hungry, and without the karma, as they
say, of any universe to-eat. Who nose? I runt, smote, don’t.
But am eye a rebel; you’d think
so; an exquisite but aggressive one: I will eat, now. Later, the
notes of (mine) days wait harshly grossed out face-mine; I have
to both create, and write about the culture, here; will be jot.
Now, brat, the notebooks are off rocks.
Wouldn’t you, love, a drink, bite now?
Everyday, nowadays, I get a call from an out-o-state # ; and it never amounts to nothing; somebody looking for a name, I don’t know; or a call-back from me, Where nobody responds.
I wish I could …
I mean, watch a movie,
I’m so full;
the toilet waiting is
my current on-coming
Also, I love
brings out the
soaked in the smoki-full of in: sense!
cashews are my favorites, a-monk.
rain: bow stoll? gross bust gross clap
her brother wanted to make
fun of her book ouside
a home-less shelter:
the story of a woman on
a pilgrimage of home: with/out!
& now he can’t bee
at least a poll —