Broken Flesh

Broken flesh and sweet kisses and of the scattered memories that stick in you and the memories that burst in your mind. There’s a picnic in my mind and I’m trying to get at it. The long lost thing that you always wanted at the edge of the forest of my drives. I’m waiting inside and can perceive some place not too far away where I no longer wait and I can carve out a life with a pencil or a pen or take a photograph of an emotion. Is crawling in human emotion somewhere between the animal and the android, both a prism and a magnifying glass.