Hide And Don’t Peek

Misanthropic air balloon tugboat

of a rabbit down a whole lot of mirrors that spell out fear backwardly of love.

A genuine 1950’s stereotype.

I am the bed sheets in the wash.

I am the itch under your waistband.

The notch in your belt.

I am the scotch that catches in your nose hair.

I am an island.

I am not a rock.

I am the drool on your pillow after a somber sleep.

I am the bloodshot red in your


don’t know how to touch


don’t know how to feel me.

A truant of

your mind seems occupied with colors and washing

machines controlling our children.

A fan of your senselessness is going to fuel

the summer air was so warm that it kept me in

a stance that you held as we stared under fireworks and funnel

caking on the present like you’d never known makeup.

I am lost in your foundation.

Joshua Tool – 01/18/13


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