9/8/16

if my limbs are curled 

it is the training 

my body received

on how to play dead

and if this flailing is a message

it’s just that I carry so many words inside

like a novel, ideas 

that are screaming at decibels only dogs 

hear

or fish that glow in the dark 

see

or boys with no eyelids 

dream

this mouth is light a lightbulb

or a screwdriver

depending on the second

hand you are laying down

in the drawer

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