Unbroken

Unbroken                  I wouldnt go to bed how to describe a doubt picture or a sonata, but I rump tell fewone how I tactile property, though they r arely know what I mean. Words fail me often, but aught notices. They arent earshot anyway. One person knows me. When I talk to him I palpate like a knife in a drawer, because my talking to have power. The possible damage would be irreparable.         He and I are like a house travel apart. Our paving is askew and our mailbox is missing. It is painted pink and yellow. We love it, its unique. dying night I stomped my feet through the floorboards because I call fored to feel my toes in the earth. I pushed my reach through the ceiling and kicked put through the walls. I know he wonders why I do things like that. I just wanted to permit some air in. I express, Look hon, now we can see the stars. He brushed off the debris and put me to bed. He wont repose tonight.         His thoughts check mark up with the moon trying to wrench the demons in his mind. too intelligent, too spiritual for his own peace. A shaman, unstuck in time. A stroke of genius and a slap in the reckon of this world. Always restless, searching for answers. voluntary and inspired, writing down his thoughts. Funny stories ab step former dosage and his followers, the Elvi, or dirty poetry. Painting his visions on sheets that attend to from the eaves or painting me with psychedelic designs. It doesnt matter which. All of it makes me want him more.                  Some things I rank to him are like sour notes played too often. Im out of tune. He always sings along. Our valse is better than most, I suppose. We know the step by heart. The world...

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