Poetry (words)


I have inappropriate thoughts at all the wrong times, but isn’t that the point of inappropriate thoughts? I feel the trickle of heat running down my spine, every flesh covered vertebra so savagely defined.  Behind closed doors I am masterful, the commander of my own ocean. It’s my navigation that fails me.  


Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s