Spinning high to Fiction, a7x. the speakers' lack of bass is thin wailing across wood floor over bare feet slapping varnish surface twisitng in maroon boxers and 90's LOVE striped tank, coffee cooling with a pound of sugar next to pretzel rods salty and orange tiger bowl
don't judge the odd hair, i shed like a retreiver

The creature feeds on special spokens, tasting the air for more she realizes the brainstorm has passed her door. Travel the day with luciferin trails as you gleam fairly in the lowlight
shower is needed on this continent as well

words tear me a new soul. i thought i discarded mine to the wind when sorrow alighted barely balancing on the barbed wire fence, wings dank and damp, mangy feather dropping into thick dusty underfoot
dusting me off, windex the glass around my innerworkings so you can watch them spin dizzy from your helium touch

Oh the songs my heart hums of late are new to me...alas i wish this was so. but I used to hear others hum this tune when I was smaller and rebellious, with no taste of blood in my cheek or on my collar. now my hem is ***** and worn, and fractious memories of other lips pressed to mine... can i toss these and replace them with whatever texture your ****** forestry implies? nuzzles are tasteful, when my tongue is out dear. if only a precursor, let us wander (skirtless) and fitzpleasure abounding not even gently when we combine talents and hum to the moon the new songs we've learned from hating eachother.
(i only hate you for finding my heart and for making me give it to you) but i forgive you for not being here

sweetness evades me, hiding in my stomach. being broke is not the worst, i guess.. until hunger shakes my bird bones - skinny not an issue, but weightlessly i drift to the keyboard back and again and with lazy eyes tracing the pattern provided over and over a few times more before
heart drench me
beating around in the brushfire
i stand on delicacy, shiver and stammer, foreshadow until you can't reply without stepping on my long skirts trailing
and i just woke up, i have no idea what i'm referring to anymore

We have oddly sticky hands
oil, dust and sugar
newspaper ink and ceramic chips
feet track on moldy rug
broken glass and rusty circles raise the question
peeking into past lives of
each room
salvage ex-roomate's ex-girlfriend's
shampoo body wash flatiron dishes

we make a shrine to spools of thread
little lion man and plastic pans
real tuesday weld and smoke with KC
won't you hold my hand?

Let's overthink dating for a night
I will try to be by your side
my rougey lips are for you
and the moon

Will this ever-increasing tic
obsession( fine fresh fierce)
end?
Oh dunedin
birds gossip nicely as the sixth pm drains away the daylight
like the holy cousin of rainwater, sliding into sewers and grasses
collecting in the corners, broadly shouldering
alight upon my flushing cheeks as I grin with content and turn open palms
fronds for photosynthesis- to the running sun
she hides behind a tree, throwing black shadow and navy skyshine to cover her tracks
easily distracted
stars mesmerize in redcloud manners with their fervent chimiing
and when the sun finally leaves i will not sleep by your side
but this is nothing new. so i eat hazelnut spread and honey on granola and milk
forget my nicotine withdrawal for the night
i'll smoke a bowl in order to eat dinner and sleep
without you

i forgot
I'm 20 now