Wednesday, December 27, 2006


Square fingers, square toes,

I tread the soil of my soul.

I prepare to follow my nose,

Down the yellow brick road,

All this while she stayed indoors

With her doors shut windows closed

And I like a fool, peeped and probed

With my square old fingers ands toes,

She refused to let me grow,

I writhed on the floor,

And waited outside her door

An eternity and four

As she left a bloody trail,

On the soil of my soul,

And I forgave her some more.

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