paperpulse (![[info]](http://l-stat.livejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif){kind=small} paperpulse) wrote,@ 2005-11-16 21:24:00 |
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notes
something about rooftops and a shifting weight. Until you my poetry was concerned with metre and meaning - you throw words at me like rocks at a window - literary vandalism. Before you (said like you're my very own private Holy boy) the only thing to slide down my back was cold sweat and palm-flat-affection. Now sibilance pools in the small of my back, now metaphors run from my shoulders, now my shirt sticks to syllables.
something about rooftops and a shifting weight. Until you my poetry was concerned with metre and meaning - you throw words at me like rocks at a window - literary vandalism. Before you (said like you're my very own private Holy boy) the only thing to slide down my back was cold sweat and palm-flat-affection. Now sibilance pools in the small of my back, now metaphors run from my shoulders, now my shirt sticks to syllables.
