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anarchist anomalies
For whatever it's worth, for whatever is worse.
It's the only way I can tell you I love you.
Over the years I have become this spinning astroplex
of unanswered questions, answered prayers.
You try to sum it up, dumb it down.
I'll always be here hiding in the fibers of your t-shirt.
Waiting, wanting, waning.
Like a blood stain set in hot water.
Some sort of poetry, some sort of daughter.
Indentured, adventured.
In the end we all end up in the rinse cycle.
