wired to meet, maul, merge, emerge…
I slathered greaseOn my tongueFor infinityTo slip in
My fingerNow slickProbed into the tunnelOf my throatThe belly’s fireSet the heart aflameThe hissBrought out a serpentSlithering phlegm
I had retained nothing.
blogRWow!!!What an articulate poem about,"Bulimia"!
It could be about bulimia, but since I do not identify with it, perhaps it could also be about something else???I love metaphors:-)
You put olive oil to cure a throat problem?
May I add that I have a hugeeeeeee crush on your writings...both here and on chowk...dont EVER stop !
Usama:It isn't a throat problem...and I should hope I do not stop. Even if I do, there is always olive oil; it is meant forever.
FV: a little more olive oil and you'll also be singing like frank sinatra :DBeej: Caves are nice, and I'd love you to come...we are allowed to eat all things vegan :D
Usama:Do I know you? The reason I ask is because at a get-together I did sing 'Strangers in the night'...without the help of olive oil!PS: I am afraid but a certain person's posts are being deleted, so those who reply will have to just accept this as part of this blog's policy. I wish people followed at least some modicum of courtesy.
FV: Unfortunately (!) you dont know me personally....eerie coincidence about the frank sinatra thing though! And I think Beej meant it in a lighter vein, just like my reply.
Yes, indeed, a co-incidence.Re. the 'lighter vein', it wasn't merely this once and it isn't always like that. See my comment in Rains. I have my reasons.
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