Trucks are prohibited...but you are always welcome

Monday, May 2, 2011

Soiled

I have dirt and grit and mud on my face, caked in my eyes so I can no longer see the light. I wipe it away with equally muddy hands, wiping and wiping and never any cleaner for my troubles. I want so desperately to have my face cleaned, but I know before I can I must wash my hands. If only I could see to wash them.


I know this may make no sense to you, but I have no other way to describe what I am feeling.
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2 comments:

  1. Amber SchmidtMay 2, 2011 at 4:29 PM

    You express yourself amazingly.

    Would you ever consider signing on for this month's 'Writers' Wednesday' on my blog? (No, this isn't me spamming, promise.)

    ReplyDelete
  2. the BrownsMay 3, 2011 at 8:53 PM

    <3

    I'm hear to listen if you want to ever talk in less cryptic forms, but your poetry is lovely.

    ReplyDelete

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