[About it]
A blug of worrying warts
and sooth-saying

Name: Zara Tak
Age: 20
Location: Austin, TX
Email: Gmail
Facebook: Zara.Tak
Myspace: Tazarat
Singspace: Fotura +

[x] Oma
[x] A Modern Shell

Zara Tak


An endeavor undone; so much is to be done.
A lost at soul (soulless we drive),
to sea he sails and far out he is begone.
So she warns me, "never write about it again".

A turbulence shakes me,
rattles a couple thoughts right out of my mind and to the actual floor they tumble.
Furiously I recall a dream of myself searching under the crowded seat of an airplane (strangely straight over the sea)
where nothing is found but a blistering bite mark on the pincer of my hand.

I recall the oil stains on the water to the East,
a frustrated sebaceous gland Mother Earth is fighting with
(I agree to feel the less fortunate "t-zone",
for the name I myself and again the difficult virtue both share.)
Like crepe paper the ocean ripples out to cellulite-full cumulus
where her under arms reveal unshaved-ness ( as lovely as those who treasure her most)
and I, a bird in a tin
watch her scrupulously from my vantage point.

Likewise I do to the saplings when soil-bound;
a vision of height precedes me as a dreamed allusion.

Moldy and full of puss!
Her clouds billow beneath me, grimaces ensue; a cringe is initiated between saplings.
To where finally a lone (lost) fish dangles before the allow beak.

The cabin darkens, throats become pitted olives at the bases of bellies;
circle, arch, descend, and then ensnare.
The galley quivers as the insatiable captain rears for another.
At the nose the entrapped are teased (played to entertain a powerful complex)
and carted through the belly, unpitted we digest them as ravenously as fear will allow.
Cellulite grows in the honey combs of our thighs.

A sinking sedative heavies lids enough to undo any damage
and the last memory lingers
as a bracelette of desert turquoise unraveled,
blown apart across the hillside.

posted by Tazarat @ 1:54 PM

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