If you had to pick,
what sense would you sacrifice?
Impossible choice.
See hear taste smell touch
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If you had to pick,
what sense would you sacrifice?
Impossible choice.
If you had to pick,
what sense would you sacrifice?
Impossible choice.
Sometimes, the hunger
that compels you to eat a
cookie is sadness.
Soldiers wear helmets.
Women wear makeup, styled hair.
Our mode of defense.
The house of my heart
is white, clean, pure. No windows,
doors. No visitors.
Two tribes – In-laws and
Parents – force you to over-
eat, then watch TV.
“She hurt my daughter,
so I wanted to hurt her.
Can’t you understand?“
Fever like a sun
burn – every surface blazing –
yet chilled to the core.
Going to New York
to be on TV. Need new
clothes. A tent would work.
Why this ache, an itch
no hand can scratch, a splinter
no tweezer can pull?
A blowtorch melting
a block of ice from within,
pain made transparent.