since there's no one else around, we let our hair grow long and forget all we used to know. then our skin gets thicker from living out in the snow.
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Friday, July 06, 2012
scribbled.
i think if i were different
i would have notebooks filled with
flowers
paper cut-outs
clippings of grass
drops of dew
and a piece of red thread to hold it all together.
but my notebooks are filled with words
scribbled thoughts
bouncing brain spew
things i need to change
(i always think i need to change)
so i make lists
action items
things i can finish
because i am a finisher
i
finish
things
because if i can't,
i am incapable of letting them go.
i don't know how to leave things undone.
how to leave words
unspoken and under my tongue
but who is listening?
are you?
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