Thursday, April 10, 2008


Your Purple sleepless lips in front of the bird.
Chewing yourself away in anxiety to wake the woodpecker up one day.
Your Fingers touching them. 
Hands grabbing, pulling away. 

Your Living in a fantasy.
You continue walking on green grass.
Yellow magenta skies above your head.
You've lost your way.
Turing back the birds no longer sleep.
The woodpecker has no beck. 

Grass turns mud. 
You begin to sink.
Swallowing you down under.
You living in a seed. 
a seed of fantasy. 
Pulling in from a yellow chain. 
around your neck. 

text by: the female zoo