The weather, that’s what’s in the day.
Hot, sour unease fingers our lungs
Sickly heated images from dreams
Make caves of buildings and caves
Of eyes. Those eyes- piercing as a hawk.
And mouth to match. Her heart so
Full thats its’ chemical calcium creates
Concrete armor all in bitterness of pain
And to see this young thing.
This foolish blind thing,
Lights up that Being, as though her body were possessed
For every discriminating eye
To hold my gaze. And the young
Thing prickles and mutates under such a gaze.
Her hands turning into buckets Full of tears.
And squeamish stomaches
She wants to forcibly remove.
The filter system seems broken as
The important thoughts trickle out
And all the pink grunge of intestinal
Regret remains. “Wanted” mug shots stare
At her – surround her.
Sickening her dizzy ing on the muggy day.
So full, the day
That its belly drags along the ground,
When crawling into her ear, to descend
Through her pretty throat.
She eats the day, and sweats the
Rest as an offering for this humid world.
Bloating. Her pores strainers for disgust.
Under the eyes of the women from
Her dreams -
Eloise 30.10.07
Eloise 
‘unease fingers our lungs” – (grammatically correct)
Feel like I need to sit awhile with this one.
I get this one,
the dizzyming is that a typo?
the intestinal regret remains with the s
would that be better grammer?
lights up that being…. is that one of the women from the dreams?
small b for being? or not?
To me its talking about the force of the older invested female clan
and the utter penetration such have against all protection,
especially ratioanal thoughts about ones identity or position.relating to there off spring.