Bob and weave,
keep your tongue
out your teeth,
keep two fists up at all times,
don't let your hands drop
below your hipline,
that's how you get cleaned,
that's how you wind up
with a head full of bees,
move your feet,
off the heels
jump on the combs,
keep your toes wide,
and once you feel that
supreme blow
to the temple
give yourself a lil tap
wasps come to **** the bees
when the queen
is incapacitated.

Posted up,
Trap Keeper's
what
my girl call me,
a few baggies
near my belly button,
and my 6-inch demon
below it,
when I hand you something,
I hand it from the bottom of my stomach,
imma make you love yourself,
for a few moments
Imma be the most beautiful thing you've ever seen,
you might even love me back,
might even love my shirtless
breast, the way my tattoos
swirl and alligators pop off the letters on my chest,
I might just swallow you whole
and make you another part of my arsenal,
another inch to the sixes.

My soles are wet, or at least one
is.
I have played in the puddles
too much
and eaten the rain
until even the lopsided clouds
have gotten sick of me.

How have you found one,
one droplet
for
one fire?

How have you found one
dimple in space
and laid down like a child
and given birth
without oxygen?

How have you found one?
one of everything
in one of one thing?

How have you found one,
even in decay
as you walk in my pain as a vagrant?

****
a love jones,
or some
Tyler Perry *******.

I want a chick that pulls knives out on me and jokes while she's doing it, because that's how we joke around.

A knife
like:
"You're not the kind of man I thought you were
when we first met.

Pulling out knives
and
putting little dimples
of love
into
each other.

The first time
I saw a ******
I saw it in the open legs
of a smouldering woman
pockmarked by bullets,
and her curly black
hair
was pink
with brains like worms.

Her knees shook
spasmodically
like spider's
when you smush
them under your thumb.

The first time
I saw and
held a gun,
I yanked it from my father's
eternal fingers.

His head was open too,
and it buzzed
in a black rain of flies.

They were shooting,
and little plumes
of dust
exploded all around my feet.

Whizzing, Banging, a roar
of warfare, and I burned myself;
the shells kept falling against my skin
as I held that AK
squeezing
and falling
as the gun
pow'd
and recoiled.

Little bubbling lakes of skin
hurt my arms for days.

I loved you,
in a way that teenagers aren't supposed to love.

I loved you in a hard way.

"I can't be with someone who can just do that to someone else, that isn't love or trust."

And i broke.

I broke like a machine.

Woke up
steel.
Feeling parts
screaming.
Circuits
zapping, zipping
almost
jumping.
Heart
thumping,
then stopping,
thumping.

Know
that I cannot lose you easily;
you are not my apartment keys
or a mango;
you are
an ID
or a stranded muse;
I am a number waiting to be laminated
or a boat with
blue bedsheets for sails;
I will sell what will get me to you;
blue bedsheets for sale
and photocopiers
in overstock.