a random collection of thoughts and writings from the depths of my consciousness, spread out on a page for the enjoyment and contemplation of... well, me. Many of my pieces are the result of Magnetic Poetry.
Monday 19 May 2008
Soul Food
My soul is in a zip-lock bag and has no room to breathe. Your peanut butter kisses are not what I need. My chocolate tears run slowly down the cellophane. Pass me a fondu fork, so my soul can breathe again.
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