A dream finds me in
Cotton sheets white and pilly
Which belong not to me
But to the dream that is you
Also enveloped in the familiar fabric.
I do not wake but I receive the message
Clear as if spoken
But necessarily distorted and divine:
Some love is loving parts of a whole,
This is not that.
It is not your voice but the voice of dreams
It is my dream
It is the dream of us in cotton sheets together.
Apr 7, 2019
Apr 7, 2019 at 8:00 PM UTC
I BELIEVE IN HEAVEN
BECAUSE WHERE ELSE
HAVE ALL THE ANGELS GONE
Sep 28, 2018
Sep 28, 2018 at 7:38 PM UTC
Having a hard time forgiving men I think.
Having a time forgiving men I think hard.
Sep 28, 2018
Sep 28, 2018 at 7:36 PM UTC
Like a zygote in a toilet bowl
you flushed me away with a raw and distant shame that must’ve grown in you for two weeks and kept you up at night as a churning of unknown origin, a bloating that weighed you down in that section of the grocery store and made you promise “after one more week” because it was too early to tell even though you were already flushed with that secret, lonely panic when something no one else could detect made you gag and you prayed like a Christian and remained silent like a monk until it finally happened and you were saved, redeemed by the sight of the red little pieces of soul and carnal ritual which were so tender and broken you became whole again and you understood so you flushed me away, and we never spoke of it because only I knew but you must’ve understood the shame because at the first sight of me in August you flushed my red little soul away too.
Sep 27, 2018
Sep 27, 2018 at 1:22 PM UTC