7.7.17
We love when things fit neatly
into bonebuilt boxes,
cardboard bits hacked together
or drilled steel, immovable metal.
We or just I make boxes out of rules
and I makedamnsure
they stick. My rules serve me
well, sometimes, with exercise and facial care
less so with life.
Rules fall groundward when I let them,
when I stretch innocent my words to coil-curl
of my own.
As if I didn’t know exactly what I meant
to fit in each box, in neat
stacks of pages and trinkets
puzzle-pieced together till they’re squirming
for space. Boxes and tightness, togetherness,
I’m good at.
Space is next to come.
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@bonebuilt
❝ if i have to hear one more fucking pun i will break all of the bones in your body. ❞
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