and the thoughts…

jumble up in the form of words that don’t come out just right
wondering if the only language is art in the form of actions;
every little pang opens up a new door
to the little dog that barks my name

reminiscence of what makes me stay sane…

This entry was posted on May 2, 2009 at 9:14 AM and is filed under Jencerpts.. with tags formative years, Open up, Poetry, Sane dogs. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.