My Rope and Me
I have become very formeler with a rope.
A thick rope that some how, one way or anther has formed knot.
It wraps aroud this indescribable shapless place inside of me, not my heart but almost.
I feel the rope being pulled with a strength that could move mountains yet so painfullf slowly that its difficult to feel any movment at all.
Some times I like to imagine a gargantuan slug (who is also a aspiring body builder) is pulling on my rope.
I dont much enjoy this rope , I dont much enjoy pretending I dont feel it tightening arount that shapless place inside of me ,but I do enjoy when my hand by some merical manages to use a penicle to sribble down some emotions that are tied to words.
The reason I enjoy poems is because my big mean slug always takes the time to read them, and just for a moment forgets to pull on that stupid rope.