Dancing on the mangled
corpse of Jupiter, we recall
nothing but revelry. I wonder
about God and summer and
poor boyish ignorance.
There are eggshells in my hair,
or maybe they simply are
my locs. Snapping like shedskin,
left and right, they are an offering.
Divining me, divining you.
Pan-fried resistance,
Your tongue beckons
I am a celestial body
blindly hopping galaxies;
Devour me.
Jan 11, 2015
Jan 11, 2015 at 11:50 AM UTC
Scorched earth, limp talons
draw constellations
in the dark dark dirt.
The deep welcomes
this offering, gratefully
sinking down, down, down.
Vibrations be ******
I am not a slave
to your words today.
Repent! Or so you may be
lead to believe. Brittlebones,
you have done nothing wrong.
Seaweed caressing torso and legs,
the body is present, cradling
an entire universe in its arms.
Nineteen years of compartments,
I am made of boxes.
Each more intricate than the last.
Budding wings are emerging
from my shoulder
blades. I feel nothing, yet.
Higher! Up, up,
altitude claims breath.
You remember drowning.
Jan 11, 2015
Jan 11, 2015 at 11:49 AM UTC