Tiny Emeralds

The hornets’ nest is restless like my hands against your dress are just as buzzing bad and fretless as a newly polished edge – we want attention and then questioning to merit our suspension of disbelief that skeletons could ever want another to lay over. When it’s colder all the hornets go to sleep they stop buzzing they stop biting they start having little dreams about vacations they’re not taking about photos they’re not making funny faces for and waking is the worst part of my day because it means I have to live and do things I don’t want to do like smoke a pack and spew and hack up tiny emeralds in the sink.


~ by perfectionatrix on September 12, 2012.

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 )

Google+ photo

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

Twitter picture

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

Facebook photo

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


Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: