Saturday, April 10, 2010


There are certain hours of the evening, or very early morning, when things just become...peculiar. A little less real. Whenever that happens I tend to get a little bit maudlin' and a little bit prone to writing poetry. I'm not sorry about either, but, you know. Forewarned.

sit awhile with me and say
you love the different ways
i find to peel back my skin
and wallow in the frustrated ugly

i seek redemption through this
my endless flaw list
we could compare notes
(mine will always be worse)

and while i will meticulously discover
new ways to find you beautiful
for me there is only this damaged skin
to peel back and hate again

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