Day 2
There's no breakfast anymore
Alarms are affectionate and mold to the folds of our brains
The grammar runs strong and thick but the punctuation is preoccupied
The drugs are sunny and the sun is drugged, groggy, consistant
The city crawls with caffenated con-men
Mother's not home and her breast milk is toxic
It matches the trash we all displayed on our streets
If we could cook our leftovers
If we could swell inside our skin
If we could write down thoughts we didn't have
If we could stray from cycles and recycle emotions
We could bleed blindness in the dark
And remember catharsis
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Ben CrawfordOk, facts about me. Here we go: I was born in Red Rock, Ontario, Canada. I was a home birth due to blizzard. I hate anything too sweet. I love tea. I love poetry. I love theatre. I love the colour green. I am colour-blind. In concept I like cats more than dogs. I am a libra. I was born in the year of the horse. I am a phlegmatic-melancholic but I'm also quite sanguine. My spirit animal is the raven but I am unanimously thought of as a goat. I love coffee. I love the night. I hate the word "sesame". I love rolling on the floor. I love painting the legs of tables. I like walking. I contradict myself.
