Thursday, March 17, 2011

Whispers Wriggled




They drove us far, inside the car,
an early morning rise.

Topeka stray, a Boulevard
a purple mind will stay.

The crooked line, the handle bar,
I held in such dismay.

I watched my hand,
turn blue in site.

Terror entered on that night. 

Dusk was soon to enter here,
wet rain came from above.

My neck did ache
from splattered hate
I'm dead and I'm not Nine.

Last year, last place
I'll know (no) this taste
pucking, stooping, shy. 

My big brother and sister lie,
the twisted tongue with slice.

Aching, breaking, snaking mine
to empathy embrace.

No hindrance found,
No striping town,
whispers wriggled thru.

It was me,
no T.V.,
no one remembers thee!!


K.A.P.
5/4/2009

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