Friday, October 23, 2009

Harpies Have Feelings Too (Mature)

Mature Content

all the little secrets,
not secrets just things
that signify singularity,
different feathers, same-looking wings.

inhaling cry when it hurts,
pleasure mixing with the pain;
murmured gasps going outward:
soft and soothing and so tame.

and when the oh-two
changes volume in my veins,
breathing gets louder, steadier,
breathing with my brain.

the superego doesn't shame me,
the id cheers it on,
the ego does the griping,
the body is not one.

the body hungers for it,
the mind desires flesh,
the spirit hides its eyes,
the being isn't meshed.

all the little pieces,
all part of one thing,
that signify a whole:
different feathers, all one wing.

caring is always so costly,
and the bill always paid in full,
not something we can mortgage,
else we'd lose the heavy pull

of our desperately gained,
fearfully guarded wings.
though we'd keep each other aloft
if one of us lost such things.

all the little pieces,
all each the same fam'ly,
despite our singularity,
we all wear our wings.

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