Back breathless from the bi-weekly poetry slam. My pulse is ready to tear through my skin but I push it down. Lately I run the last block home. I don’t know why. It’s dark, in front of me is a field, I run. Anyone watching would think I know what I’m doing but I can feel<\/i> my body’s still broken. It’s frightening to run. Feet hitting the ground in such delicate pounding balance, this ankle’s going to go. My faulty eyes can’t see the ground so I focus on what’s ahead of me. I feel like I could go forever. I feel like I can pretend to be whole again.<\/p>\n
I’m lying.<\/p>\n
Mine from the stage. His words rolling so skillfully on skin that he could almost talk me into loving him. “I was sick for you, but I think I’m better now. Recovering.” I worried last time I saw him, his illness a sheen on his skin, a catch how he looked just barely at me. It hurt my soul. There was nothing I could do. Nothing that would be honest. I’m going to wait for him just a little more. Keep him close to watch him. Skin to taste and bones to break, these words can’t tell what he means to me but not, might I add, enough.<\/p>\n
Something will die the day I break a poet.<\/p>\n
Victoria posted T. S. Elliot today. I need to post it as well, as I know the same things. It’s a wierd sad place to live my dearest, and a strange road to walk. Lonely when it’s supposed to be home, but it’s not, because we know how beautiful the rest of it is. <\/p>\n
“Between the conception
\nAnd the creation
\nBetween the emotion
\nAnd the response
\nFalls the Shadow<\/p>\n
Life is very long<\/p>\n
Between the desire
\nAnd the spasm
\nBetween the potency
\nAnd the existence
\nBetween the essence
\nAnd the descent
\nFalls the Shadow”<\/p>\n
http:\/\/www.how-to-hide-a-corpse-on-federal-land.com\/<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
Back breathless from the bi-weekly poetry slam. My pulse is ready to tear through my skin but I push it down. Lately I run the last block home. I don’t know why. It’s dark, in front of me is a field, I run. Anyone watching would think I know what I’m doing but I can … Continue reading “I could never forgive myself of breaking a poet.”<\/span><\/a><\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[1],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-966","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-uncategorized"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/foxtongue.com\/dreampepper\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/966","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/foxtongue.com\/dreampepper\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/foxtongue.com\/dreampepper\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/foxtongue.com\/dreampepper\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/foxtongue.com\/dreampepper\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=966"}],"version-history":[{"count":0,"href":"https:\/\/foxtongue.com\/dreampepper\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/966\/revisions"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/foxtongue.com\/dreampepper\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=966"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/foxtongue.com\/dreampepper\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=966"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/foxtongue.com\/dreampepper\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=966"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}