Wednesday, April 25, 2012

i smell the blood of an englishman





No, there was never enough bread or air around here. So I learned to eat and breathe like I was coming home after a long time. 

I'm always coming home. 






Trial and error.
-Avery Jalaine
 

1 comment:

  1. You might or might not consider posting that poem you shared at SFY on 4/27. That would be really kinda cool.

    You write ugly letters that turn into pretty words.

    ReplyDelete

Oh thanks. You're pretty.