Jen Juice

Reverent installations of the salivating moments
I don’t really feel
Not until the floor drops on my cushion
Bottled up hope
And sanctions
Created for a little cynical pleasures
Now and again
Cradling the sharpest part –
Dancing in the dirt
Like a bondaged messiah
So often heard as the longest
And last good-bye….

This entry was posted on August 21, 2012 at 4:37 PM and is filed under Jencerpts.. with tags Ache, Bondage, Poetry. 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.