There are holes in everything.
You, me,
This blindfold I willingly put on,
And the rationalizations I made for needing it.
Flimsy.
I built a time machine
But it seems so wasteful.
All those memories...
So I'll give you first pick
Of the new ones.
I owe you.
i like your moxie
it's chock-a-block with verbosity, hyperbole, alliteration and nougat-y fuck. oh, and probably lots of unnecessary punctuation...and very little capitalization...but probably not any actual nougat-y fuck. i wouldn't even know where to find any of that.
Fallout
It was the end of the world
and my teeth were falling out.
I remembered how that only happens in my dreams.
I held my bloody mouth together with my hands in front of the mirror.
My eyes were still my eyes.
I began to count back from ten,
telling myself to wake up.
Nine...
Eight...
My shirt billowed out around me in slow motion seven...
Six...
WAKE UP.
Five...
Four...
And everything began to rise up into the air three...
Two...
I'm awake now but the world is still ending.
Quietly.
and my teeth were falling out.
I remembered how that only happens in my dreams.
I held my bloody mouth together with my hands in front of the mirror.
My eyes were still my eyes.
I began to count back from ten,
telling myself to wake up.
Nine...
Eight...
My shirt billowed out around me in slow motion seven...
Six...
WAKE UP.
Five...
Four...
And everything began to rise up into the air three...
Two...
I'm awake now but the world is still ending.
Quietly.
Coincidentally Philotic
Scars like oceans
Tattoos like daydreams and math and resolutions
To allow more scars
Rapier slashes of peril and desire
Just trusting this runaway train and myself
Tattoos like daydreams and math and resolutions
To allow more scars
Rapier slashes of peril and desire
Just trusting this runaway train and myself
doesn't look anything like me
i know, dragons terrify and arouse me too
while dinosaurs only make me feel contemplative
your dark stairwell boomerangs me back to the street
and it feels like being hooked off the stage amidst catcalls
i have the key but not the authority
why do you have that anatomically correct doll of me?
why is it placed with such specificity in that proportionally representative model of my home?
reading your mom's diary wasn't as cathartic as i thought it might be
so i suggest a new approach
one where we paint each other's toenails while disagreeing about things like
entropy and singularity (both gravitational and technological)
and quietly get down to the hearts of some matters
while dinosaurs only make me feel contemplative
your dark stairwell boomerangs me back to the street
and it feels like being hooked off the stage amidst catcalls
i have the key but not the authority
why do you have that anatomically correct doll of me?
why is it placed with such specificity in that proportionally representative model of my home?
reading your mom's diary wasn't as cathartic as i thought it might be
so i suggest a new approach
one where we paint each other's toenails while disagreeing about things like
entropy and singularity (both gravitational and technological)
and quietly get down to the hearts of some matters
You're Queer
I've lost all perspective
Can't tell if your eyes are sleazy
Or as warm as a family kitchen party
Distance and opportunity have driven the desire
To question the meanings of your actions from my heart
I hold my breath and try to make my eyes bigger so I can understand
Your inside jokes and rabid techno-speak
Just making a mess of it
Clinically
Like an engine that runs off too many sirens and the attention of too many men
FUCK PORTION CONTROL
“Tell me the secret of your passion,” he requested, with a smile in his eyes that spoke of his enthusiasm for the answer to come.
“Orgasms and transcendental happiness through food preparation”, she replied without hesitation.
He raised his eyebrows slightly and grinned, his jaw line breaking her heart in the process. She wanted desperately to lick his teeth.
“I heard you wrote the book on that,” he said.
“I am the book on that,” she replied and pulled him close enough to see the dark starburst in his chocolate brown eyes.
“Read me,” she whispered. “Riffle through my pages and write little notes of your thoughts in the margins of my text.”
It was then that he delicately eased his fingers through the paper of her, enjoying not only the text, but the texture beneath his skin...tracing small patterns along the page, tasting her work as he indulged in his own.
She sighed deeply and spread her pages open to his delicate fingering, giving up her secret recipes and her hidden patterns to his unabashed and hungry exploration.
His breath came quicker and, intoxicated by the stimulation, he ventured deeper within her volume, greedily consuming every drop that she offered, her lessons becoming cerebral as a feast for every sense.
Murmuring mouth-watering theories of quantum entrées and loving haikus describing sweet endings into the ears of his fingertips, her pages folded themselves into origami cranes that cried out descriptions of beauty and consumption.
Her spine began to contract and it was there, in his context, that she found a new and utterly eclipsing concoction; one consisting of salty cream, sweet juices, mysterious fruit, and chocolate velvet.
From that moment on, her mouth would never want for anything else.
Imminent
I wake so you can sleep.
It’s my turn on watch and I must remain vigilant.
For what, I’m not sure.
Moans and sighs that don’t penetrate the soul,
hearts that won’t, or can’t, rapture,
all the souls that have your face and your eyes and are not heard?
Can I face what’s on its way?
Yes.
Can’t stop loving.
I won’t stop now, what I’m doing.
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