A Billi’ like a Big G.O.A.T. I just want a guy to bank-rub my broke back. Quick wit running mountains and all that, lightning streaming but not deep: I am that. I just want to try to be and devote my Self to and show him I’m free. He’ll see my billion unknown pieces and we’ll flee. I’m less-than-kind-of great, cutting keys while I move, waiting for proof. Of Life, of Light, awful flights unmake social lies made true. Share:ShareClick to email this to a friend (Opens in new window)Click to share on Facebook (Opens in new window)Click to share on LinkedIn (Opens in new window)Click to share on Pinterest (Opens in new window)Click to share on Pocket (Opens in new window)Click to print (Opens in new window)Click to share on Reddit (Opens in new window)Click to share on Skype (Opens in new window)Click to share on Telegram (Opens in new window)Click to share on Tumblr (Opens in new window)Click to share on Twitter (Opens in new window)Click to share on WhatsApp (Opens in new window) Related August 12, 2013 Categories: Poetry