Ick Poem by Jennifer Strubel
Ick
Shamefulness has a way of creeping into my private areas.
It´s a physical sensation, a sick sensation.
I squeeze my legs together, though it is no use.
Fluid in movement, it makes its way up there anyway.
Tuesday, December 13, 2005
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5/9/2024 12:08:14 AM # 1.0.0.1119
the univeral sadness experienced by all that I'm simply not good enough and no matter what we do our unworthness never cease to trouble the soul yet somehow a glance from ther shifts such feelings to prive that I can beloved and more that I deserve to be loved and I shall be loved the organic birthright of the human a fine poem