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Contributed by screwge on Monday, 14th July 2008 @ 03:07:25 AM in AEST
Topic: anguished

The strings are on guard, all taut,
Imposing and stilted as iron wrought.
If you pulled just one, Id have a souvenir
And like a guitar, Id be able to hear

The tugging --
Your mug all contorted, your face smugging
Out a billboard for this corset.
Well, I could not endorse it

With inexpungible furor --
With a boost in the mirror.
So many times I have sung a carol
While rummaging through apparel,

Looking for heart-suspended dress,
Only to find it innately heartless
Because so many times you tackle the pith
And find that its strength is a myth.

Sometimes in the glimpse
Of a dimple
Newfound lameness limps.
The creases cut like a wimple

Seem to advocate their ruse.
But yet I have been weaving
With their humble blues,
And I too took to deceiving.

For, I often stagger
From happenstance rocks
That trip up my swagger
Like thick-toed socks.

Copyright © screwge ... [ 2008-07-14 03:07:25]
(Date/Time posted on site)

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