hair

my hair needs brushing I think distastefully as
I look at the strings. a brush
doesn’t do much, the wind tears away
the elusive strands and my third eye tingles.

The sun shines away any thought of
imperfection when you arrive.  As soon as
I’m gone again my hair feels dirty.

November ’05

Advertisements

0 Responses to “hair”



  1. Leave a Comment

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s




Welcome…

This blog is the collection of my poetry and prose, in chronological order from most recent to oldest.

Constructive critique is actively encouraged!

I am usually singing words as well as writing them, and make lots of other art. You can find me & my other art at any of the below links. x

Latest quick update…

  • I have pretty horrendous heart pain right now, @JohnMayer is helping me through it. Like, his music, not in person. But that’d be cool too. tweeted 16 hours ago

Pages

Archives

Categories

COPYRIGHT

All content on this blog © Rebecca Tilley, 2003-present

%d bloggers like this: