The sun crumbles beneath
Freshly laundered clouds
As the detritus of a penalty
That cannot be rightly upheld.
There is a texture to my heart
Though I am neither old
Nor recently serviced.
It is as plausible as bark
A kind of porous exoskeleton
That both guards and permits.
*
I am valuable.
I do not have to earn the right
To be loved or to exist
Though my sensibilities
Are given often to coercion.
*
Perhaps I am magenta
Blinking, unreal
A gift without sender
A kind of philanthropic camera
That holds an image
Only so long as it serves
To communicate
Something larger than its own
Credulous stance.
For
https://mindlovemiserysmenagerie.wordpress.com/2015/01/19/wordle-44-january-19-2015/
I am not managing my time that well yet. I am managing school, necessities, and cleaning pretty well but I am still trying to find a way to get in exercise and blogging/writing. I did manage to squeeze in a little something for today!
mindlovemisery 