Don't Think With Simplicity

by Analisa

There’s a drummer in my head
Not of the percussion sort,
Oh no no.
These melodic erotic
Waves are that
Of a greater power.
As the ocean pounds
The whisper surges
To my lips saying
I was destined for something
Greater than this.
A sly smile
Is not my own
But a conforming presence
That erases
Your forgotten name
Off the wall.
Erosion finds me
In the most content corner
Curling the limbs
That aren’t my own
Into shapes
From a child’s book.
For I am truly twisted.

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