Plethora of Images

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There were unclear vivid images of myself
Splattered on paper
As graphic as blood on a wall
I saw the smell of wet grass and sex
Would anyone understand?
I wonder how much passion can be found
In a two-syllable word
Fire, hunger, anguish, content
Body, nature, forbidden
Wait…never mind that’s three
If I could fuck the words on this page
What a happy soul I’d be

© 2008 by Toya J

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