Scrape my lips
Scratch my length
And create static
With your gaze,
You are the stars,
Stripes, and blues
Lusting for youth
You lost in Texas.
Officer, I would blow
Dank smoke in your
Face, and smile as
I take your money.
Do you want me?
Want the truth?
Want pure fact,
I won’t love you.
I know the clouds are running
Toward the sun in the same
Fashion mascara runs upon
Your cheeks, it’s beautiful.
Step into the gutter with me
To get your bare feet wet
And sway your waist with mine,
If you step on me I want to
Feel your flesh pressing mine.
A grip like blood on flesh,
Meaning you’re eyes traced me
And dropped to the floor.
Pool our cash, let us find a
Fix tonight, something to
Tip our heads back and laugh at.
I want to be collected and calm
Only stirred by your body pressed
Unto mine with a hug goodbye.
Could I find a beautifully boisterous Blow
Inside myself? Make a sound bound around
My footsteps towards my idols’ courageous
Decisions to be passionately alive, and die.
But that doesn’t make me
Settled wishes like coins
Sleeping on the cold floor of
I’m much more like a lava lamp,
Warm and bright, juggling ideas
My body is music
But I’m still learning
To sing the lyrics.
Another layer of darkness and it’s unusual.
This is feeling the skin of blackberries
Instead of underside of my sheets. I breathe
Irregularly… such strangeness to gag upon.
Ribcage keeps the child safe
But those tantrum heartbeats
Tire my system, let me sleep.
Weekday sun, at three past noon, this
Is intrinsic. I have climbed the branches
Of these trees and let my eyes wander
Through the trance of these leaves. It
Feels nebulous, I could be a particle in
Polar waters staring at color and stars.
Shortfall to the
Turn to routine
And it won’t ever
Become as dark
As it first became.
Pseudo-named, I will foster the common mistake of
Forgetting my name. I want to be “whole hearted” in
My intentions to thrive and smile. I’ll be uprooted and
I’ll plot my life in the woods by an icy shoreline, I will
Forget my sunburn-days of the Land of Enchantment.
Language is only a shadowy ignorance
To all I die saying in colorless time.
My vocabulary is a wounded someone
With shiny agony blinding memory.
The pen is curling from sunlight and my
Fingers fall into pattern, I’m sorry.
Breathlessness; I opposed the war,
Its lovers too gentle for fists or fire.
Treatment by your fingertips, I beg
The medic to flee the heinousness
Of my desires. Don’t break into the
Echoes of the sky at dawn, it could
Push my world to breaking down.
The crescent moon caught snow
But the rose’s petals still frosted
And our lips were blood oranges
That squeezed out passion.
To tease you, cradle snatcher, I wish
I was twenty-one so I can be at the
Bars laughing at your jokes.
I’m stuck in bed by my window and
I am planting dreams, wondering
How seedy my mind can get.
Can we skip a generation, call out a
Lifetime of memories we’ll make
Before we sleep six feet deep?