strawberry vines are
creeping over my memories of
you, rose stained glass and jasmine
in my hair. I'm trying to
numb my thoughts of you,
but the pain of the needle buried
deep in my gums keeps me
******* crying, and I can still
feel my ******* face. no one
ever tells you,
falling in love is easy. loving
someone else is the hard part.
Oct 7, 2015
Oct 7, 2015 at 3:07 PM UTC
I only love you when I'm sober,
so I've been high for, about, I'd say
2.27 weeks?? wild, I know. what
can I say? I just
hate being alone with
the mere thought of you,
cloying and ******** ecstasy
in my endorphins. Newport on my lips
and nicotine in my system; emotions
encased in agar, Petri dish replicants.
sugar skulls crushed beneath timbs and
honey beneath my cuticles and
white wine in the freezer frosting up.
chocolate ganache sealing my tongue
like a sarcophagus and I'm daydreaming
about halcyon days gone by
screaming along to the radio in
your sunsoaked two-seater.
Sep 8, 2015
Sep 8, 2015 at 6:29 PM UTC
after tastes like aftershocks,
pineapple lips and papaya tongue.
sunshine sloshing
all over us like liquor and
your hair so like shale
soaking beneath the sun.
Artemis is goddess of the moon:
where did you think lunar witches came from?
xanax bar after xanax bar
laid upon the vanity, crushed
and powdered up, snowdrifts
in blue and white.
oranges and blueberries and mango
in your lap, juice
across your thighs and earth in your mouth.
May 7, 2015
May 7, 2015 at 3:35 PM UTC
I can see three skies
on the interior of my eyelids,
and I just got a text from
my friends at a party; it's
well past dark and it feels like
Genoa and Home and London
all in one. I keep
waking up and
dozing off again;
******* fits and
trazodone dreams.
I feel like I'm trapped
in a time loop; Groundhog Day,
but every day I love a new
person,
but you
always come around,
always on my mind
and I
do not know how to keep you
out of my brain, how to
keep you near me.
Apr 29, 2015
Apr 29, 2015 at 3:15 PM UTC
there's basically
no difference between
clouds and fog, and
thunderstorms and reduced visibility
have both put the fear of God in me;
loving you is all
pain and lust, interchangeable,
interchangeable. slippery
squealing synthesizers, aching
for your touch and
dying to throw these
LCDs and LEDs and private
snapchats into the Recycle
Bin,
and I am glittering in the dark, swerving
across the median, drunk driving
on the thought of seeing you just a little
sooner than never.
Mar 14, 2015
Mar 14, 2015 at 8:28 PM UTC
please shut up and let me pretend
that the streetlight shining through the
***** window is moonlight glittering
across my angel face, because
it is 3 in the morning and everything is
poised to break apart like
the ice on the Iowa River.
Mar 14, 2015
Mar 14, 2015 at 8:25 PM UTC
my mind is cyclical,
Battle Bot on Hamster Wheel
installation art soon to be in
Tokyo, San Francisco, New
York, Chicago: every city
I had the languorous pleasure of
kissing You in.
being unkind to me is terrible and
yet I love being able to vent
my emotions like so much
sulfurous smoke. [redacted]'s in
his bunk bed, 30,000 feet up and
only 1 girl is invited;
****** brain frizzed out, wasted
girls coughing kush while we
contemplate wasted opportunities.
Mar 14, 2015
Mar 14, 2015 at 8:25 PM UTC
I can still taste
oranges on my tongue,
tropicana from tampa,
extra extra pulp in my mouth.
The orange groves are
dying, frost encroaching, and I
can do little; I'm at the
supermarket searching for
coconut oil and lavishing
honey straight from the bottle
onto my tongue; empty
bears litter the linoleum and
the taste of your ***** still
evades my fractitious memory.
Mar 14, 2015
Mar 14, 2015 at 8:23 PM UTC
my whole mouth tastes like metal,
copper pennies from before
The Great Zinc Switch
filling my warm wet mouth.
cigarette smoke hazing
my sinuses like a frat rush
and I'm desperately in need of an Advil.
let me place my coppery lips
on your bronzed skin,
Amman to Atlanta,
nails like knives and
The Book of Biology
teasing hormonal touches and hydration.
iron oxide keeps flaking off my
skin, eczema and psoriasis in rust, and
the guitars in my ears are ******* furious.
and still:
sweat and *** in the sheets, your love
lingering on my palate like a
too sour wine; you fermented and curdled
in my mouth, and
to taste you now
is agony.
time is dilating around me in ripples;
I cough until the gas in my stomach releases itself; crystal abrasive.
it's all drugs and
tinder matches these days,
****** kids...
total sunbeam, in my opinion
there's still enough for
a couple more
hits, it's still rolling,
words cloud around my head like
so much weedsmoke, Storm clouds
on the horizon of my parietal lobe
and I feel fine.
I am fine.
Jan 29, 2015
Jan 29, 2015 at 6:52 PM UTC
liquid crystal display
glimmering salacious self-imagery at you,
your lips parted and breath
staccatoing along, flitting just
behind the beat, like your aunt's
first dance at the wedding reception (before
she's had enough to drink) or
her last (when she's had
too much)
she was in the passenger seat
on our drive homeward, leaning in
to the driver's seat conspiratorially,
oblivious to your beauty splayed out
exhausted in the backseat.
"she's my
baby niece, and you better not
**** with her
heart, you hear me missy?"
and I assured her I wouldn't as you
laughed and laughed, bell peals
in the backseat and church bells
echoing in my ear, past and possible
future, sodium vapor lights
slipping away along the highway as
your aunt slid back into the passenger seat.
"so"
"so"
"she's quite a
character," I say, bemused, and your
eyes crinkled at the corners like
newspaper redesigned during crumpling as
kindling for the fire, blue and blue and blue
in the backseat.
"that's true"
"just like you"
"just like me" you agree,
crossing your legs, legs that go on
for dynasties in thigh highs and
your dress riding up too high for my eyes
to focus on the taillights ahead of us when
paradise is in the rearview:
love is
cold lobster bisque
in a big bowl in bed in the morning,
two spoons and a carton of orange juice
arrayed on the covers atop our
entangled legs.
Jan 12, 2015
Jan 12, 2015 at 11:32 PM UTC