I wonder at the weight of a Sparrow.
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I know you have the patience of a rapidly decomposing turd.
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When you are perfect, is there anywhere else to go?
Mary E. PearsonSome things aren't meant to be known. Only believed.
Mary E. PearsonMots clés truth
I don't want five hundred billion neural chips. I want guts.
Mary E. PearsonMy timing is off. But I had to get it out. Some things you have to tell, no matter how stupid they may sound. Some things you can't save for later. There might not be a later.
Mary E. PearsonPieces.
A bit for someone here.
A bit there.
And sometimes they don't add up to anything whole.
But you are so busy dancing.
Delivering.
You don't have time to notice.
Or are afraid to notice.
And then one day you have to look.
And it's true.
All of your pieces fill up other people's holes.
But they don't fill
your own.
Mots clés life
Things I can feel. Hard. Soft. Rough. Smooth. But the inside kind of feel, it is all the same, like foggy mush. Is that the part of me that is still asleep? (9)
Mary E. PearsonAwareness
There is a dark place.
A place where I have no eyes, no mouth. No words.
I can't cry out because I have no breath. The silence is so deep I want to die.
But I can't.
The darkness and silence go on forever.
It is not a dream.
I don't dream.
I still cry on waking. I'm not sure why. I feel nothing. Nothing I can name, anyway. It's like breathing - something that happens over which I have no control. (6)
Mary E. PearsonPage 1 de 10.
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