Dye the ***** water with contaminates:
                         Blue #1,
                                                  and Sucralose, too.

Bend over to spray
                         the rotting road-**** with perfume.

Perfect the recipe
                         for what was fleshed and fruited
                                                  from animals and plants.

Photoshop the starved and diseased
                         with smiles
                                                  and beautiful bodies.

Clothe the *****
                         with lingerie, with heels,
                                                  and with stones.

Paint the roses red.
                         We paint the white roses red.
                                                  We’re painting the white roses red!

You still take my breathe sometimes,
and my mouth craves to speak all the vowels of your name.
Oh how the memory of your touch still echos through this town and all drunken dark alleys always lead to your voice.

If I could go back I would have never met you because all we learned this time is that life was still a *****,
no matter how well you mean or how hard you try or how sincere it feels.

I'd give so much to erase you and your ghost that's watching over everything I do.
Sometimes I find it staring at me or whispering terrible things to my mind at night.
You were good for nothing, not a lesson learned.
Everytime I pass that balcony my heart forgets to beat.
I still spend hours fighting feelings that were supposed to be long gone and (godverdomme ik mis je)

And it just won't stop

dramatic sighs and erratic thighs
I picked up the phone and heard only static
you were heavens fanatic and you tried to reach it getting high

waiting for the rapture you become ecstatic
*"if
I'm an addict,
you're an addict."

Being half-happy reminds me of you
When we'd talk on the phone and I'd write you poems
Comparing you to the pills I've never done
and the powders you described to me

the two second view of Jupiter over
the two hour night that I spent awake
with you

How my memory favors a
one night second over a
one night stand.

I fled to the bathroom.
Only to be reminded of
our first night together.
Your gentle hands
lifting me on the counter.
Intoxicating kissing
flush cheeks,
with shower steam
cloaked behind us.
I unhooked my bra,
and climbed into bed.
Half expecting you to be there
waiting for me,
like how you did
when I got home from class.
I wanted to be able to count
the stars on your skin.
I can't seem to fall asleep
without being beneath
your heaven.

In fragile china I hold my hopes of yesterday
Cupping my hands in fear that they might spill away
Not a breath taken, no, they might fly from me
Cupped in my hand is truly where they're suppose to be

I catch each hope as they trickle down my face
No one understanding why I do this in such haste
But if yesterday is unlike the present, in which it's always assured
And I dare not dip my dreams in the tyrant called the future

My eyes, they never stray from fragile china in my hand
Slowly I choose to walk, apart from my fellow man
My fears they increase only 'cause it's filling up
And with that, my grip tightens, and soon I'll shatter my cup

we rove in shabby clothes
in the splendorous groves
of our night kingdom.
we tread unkempt beds
than rather lay our heads
or make love
in them.
we darken the closest star
we further the farthest
more lost,  than
found.
we groom the mane of our lying.
not for the lack of trying
the truth...
but more, for the harm -
done allies
in a war of thumbs
in a Serengeti
of our imminent
demise.

we poker face.
we monopoly grey
where our pink blood
is enough.
we trouble the rust.
we slink and encrust
where the oil slick cuts
a more striking
disfigure.
we toss sharp dice
for dull games. blood mites
for dust devils
in broken
chains.
we retreat from rings
that ferry ending gloom
to better yes the no of things
too maybe
to true.