I don’t mind minding my own business
Not thinking of me ampersand another
When I’m cold my right hand covers what’s left of its brother
Skin cover
My palms are mittens
I need to lather my lips in lip balm
But I don’t I like the taste of dead skin
It reminds me of dehydration
Days inside of over-packed gyms
Crowds of people morph into mobs
Dead-eyeing that one machine
It’s got the golden glow of a fresh baby gargoyle
That toys with dead flesh


I made mention of this earlier
But I decided to hide my mind beneath an umbrella
I hold its leg like a glow stick
This is how I pray for rain
When it comes I never have this shelter in hand
Running is my prayer for rain to cease
Trampling each proud leaf that jumps at my feet
Their crunch is their yelp of disbelief

– Eric McCarty (12/1/2011)

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