R U N N I N G
hard until the surface is broken
the choreography of our bodies beating
breath
beating like a heart
breath beat a seeping keeping
of ancient secrets ready to shout
to say our jewels need polishing?!
our tapestry is missing threads
parts of our story
twisted, mutilated and forcefucked
language fucked cunts claimed by foul
mouthed men male sized egos powered
by pedaling soft thighs like a tool
like a machine
like a hygienic profit
to be turned - forward no straight
angles are not mine
R U N N I N G
heavy it is not the act but the dissolve--
are we shifting creatures without a country speaking of home--
a lone as we sing and sing and sing cold songs
R U N N I N G
towards blacksoil freshly turned and stone freshly carved some parts smooth
some parts rough
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