setting aside a pair of ocean boots (for now)

7 3 2

setting aside a pair of ocean boots (for now)


runny, runny. postmarked stories that took the breeze in their papered fists, their tears of ink. found some errors in nature's cloud; some may say that they're otherwise, but why should that be so? reasoning is fruitless.

unfortunately, some grave discrepancy was gently peppered into a building body. sad, really. maybe it is so that I was built to be broken. they'll take parts of me that turned out just-not-so and cut and prod until they're up to par. until the aching fades away. we still haven't called the doctor back. he's on vacation.

journeyed to the oceans and the mountain peaks - it just may be that I'm suffocating in saltwater as well as misty rocks. hard and burning. oh, still yearning. popped something that made the clouds look so damn close, I can touch them. don't want to fall off into the cliffs, that'd be unwise.

ouch. to think that such an endeavor started so early and so intensely. scared that they'll doll me up in bandages and wheels. always wanted to dance, always was so unnaturally flexible... 'twas but another correction. hell, my legs are carving W's into my blankets as we speak. my feet always knew it was wrong. we never knew it was wrong.

because fifteen is acceptable, pristine, a count of two fifteen degree angles and you'll walk straight lines abound. but three times that number turned inward? gosh. what a big number. why can I walk straight too...?

I promise I'm the same, they can't see how my bones are slotted in a bit wrong. they're right in their own way, but again, ouch.

nothing is ever as it seems. dance in the rain with bumblebee boots on. mind your head.

Don't Try [Poetry]Where stories live. Discover now