run while you can

Up in arms.

Tit for tat. Image courtesy of Wisconsin Historical Society.

I fought using my only means-

instinctually as opposite sex blood brothers do.

Your wavy hair speaking to me

in an accent all its own.

Washing up on the shores of my mobile mind–

high tide and low tide.

The wash of your skinnys:

your legs, some spears ever-so-gently stabbing the ground,

warring with you as mine do.

There is nothing bland about you-

unless truth telling is tasteless.

I’ve acted in poor taste; seen you do the same.

If truth is beauty, then there is no fighting

puzzle piece pheromones from fitting.

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One response

  1. Fatkid picking boogers

    That drawing looks like Neckface.

    March 24, 2010 at 12:43 am

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