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Girls like Gargoyles Naomi Glassman New Jersey |
Girls like Gargoyles shot-free, for today this day you swear, undercover, in chains in Bethesda where a swarm of pirates wind somewhere inside your nightshade veins you swear on whitestrap brass buckle bindings, on Plath’s last oven inspired smile that this was an accident. they prescribe you encapsulated silver red medicinal chalks stuffed with powders with inks of therapy. You babble on about shoddy blue bathmats degrading understep slippery showers a razor left to rust in the old soapdish. An accident. Yearly like some tired birthday jade fluteworm-like veins pulled out of an arm, a shower of bleach rush hour neglect of the breaks. Such gravelitter the orderlies murmer she appears like an angel carved instead of painted stuck to the facing of a ghetto’s only church pulling turning winged shoulders out from the rock simple erosion will never free you soon enough now that you’ve had a taste of flight. Naomi Glassman unable to trace illustrator. please contact psychopoetica if you know his/her identity [Return to Psychopoetica home page] ©The contents of this page are copyright protected.
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