i want
to be
touched
in
a
way
that sends
little
vibrations
down
my
spine

remind
me
again
that
i’m alive

bite into me
like
a piece
of
fruit

taste me

let my
flavor
dribble
down your
chin
and tell me
how
sweet i am

lick
my
lips
to
moisten
them

send me
to the moon

make me see stars

make me
forget
just
for
a moment
that my
sad
little
world
is on fire

i’ll
show you
what’s inside
if you
promise
not to
hide
or cry
or run
or fight

i want
to be
seen
for what
i truly
am
in the light

let your
eyes
set me
free
and we’ll
see
things
together
in a new way
for
the
first time

i've seen this before

that face

those eyes
and
that smile

i know what this means

i can see how
you're ******* me
in your mind

and thinking about going for a wild
and messy ride
you're thinking
about how
i'd feel inside

how it would taste
to press your lips
against my skin

over
and
over
and over
again

you see me
in your head
with my ankles locked tightly
behind your neck
as our skin melts and morphs us into one
feeling completely intertwined
until the deed is done

after we've allowed ourselves to unwrap
and unravel
we'll fall back apart
from one
in two

our eyes will meet once more
as you'll ask me

what we're having for dinner tonight

The clock gets me.
It comes to me in the middle of the night
Pulls back the sheets and says, "Hey fucko."
Then it lifts open my sobby wet sand-encrusted lids,
It knows when I'm trying at sleep, pumping quarters
Like I was swallowing yawns, sometimes I try to squint
Harder and take a dream to the next level, whatever
The next level is. It's like Friday night when I wanted to go
Out to do something, whatever something is.
Because I know that if I don't I'll miss that thing that's so
Important that if I were to miss it the clock wouldn't come for me

Again.
And on Tuesday's when I'm knotting a dream around 2 o' clock
In the morning, my web-footed adventure, say, killing your

Boyfriend, say
Fighting the Nazis, say,
Rediscovering that you sent nudie pics to
That rando guy we met in that club that lives
in Prague-
I throw the clock at the ******* wall.

Because who knows, I make the bed wrong
Or maybe I don't cook right, or look right, or
Smile the right way at the right

Time. And you start thinking that I have to die.
The bane of my existence is an imagined feat in your
Walnut-sized brain, slowly numbing us while we're
Supposed to be, say

Listening to the rich, Oxford voice of
David Attenborough.

Instead you're thumbing through that index
of CVS cashiers, just trying to find a scruffy face
To flip your digits to, your homemade justification. It becomes
A feat, an unjust cause of mine to

Get it right, that imaginative and artificial bit you've
Been sewing up Monday twilight.

That's when I go out and jaw your sister, somewhere between
A smirk on your face and a bit of anger at the end of your sentences.

There’s a tiny box
that sits on the shelf in his room.
So small, it rarely gets noticed.
What’s inside would shock you.
The desires he wishes
he didn’t have are in there,
next to all of the times he felt
insufficient.
Beside those, there sits all of the
embarrassments he suffered
when he chose to take his
clothes off—
the time he too quickly lost
his virginity, perhaps.
Next to his nakedness,
propped up against the far side,
is a small, sad pile of muted grey ash.
A closer look would show
all the love he freely gave
and could never get back.
And although it may never catch
the typical eye,
folded up in the dusty shadow
in the back left corner
of that tiny box
is me.
I am in this box too.
Jumbled between unwanted desires,
and intimate regrets, I wonder
if this home is my choice.
I wait for the tiny box to open;
to feel admired;
to be more than a shelved secret;
to feel a starved gaze;
to breathe fresh air.
I wait for the tiny box to open.
I wait.

On my knees, I feel taller than I'll ever be.
Where his hands descend, my skin hums;
tones that are new; tones that pull;
tones that arch my spine; that spark an ache
and make me pine for more of this music.
I find that I know every word to this song,
even though I've never heard it before.

On my knees, I see farther than I ever have.
With a single lick of my lips,
I shake mountains; I stop time;
I **** the speech from a tongue
that may need to forget
what pains it to speak.

On my knees, I am the most I have ever been.
As he wipes the tear from my cheek,
with my smile, juxtaposed;
my skin still hums to words sung so clear.

On my knees, I find purpose.
On my knees, I am.

By Arcassin Burnham

Die if your a witness,
You could testify , go ahead , it's a crooked justice system,
Gotham ain't no better,
Even if they could quiet my storm, ain't no perfect
weather,
Wayne's take the feather, tickling us with it,
And you wanna be stable in this *******?
I'll let you do the ***** work for me,
Y'all slaughtered each other for centuries,

Joker your the one to talk to if there's nobody.
Yeah I talk to myself,
Saying that your building a better future for all
when all of y'all don't take care of y'all selves,
Have to better y'all selves,
Turn back the clock for the weaklings,
You say you want a better world? Maybe?
And y'all still look at me and say I'm crazy,
I use to have a life before this lady,
Before I ever met my dear harley,
When the bat knocked me down , chemically,
And when it made me crazy eternally,
I'll never stop killing but you know the bat can't **** me,
Taking a life is inner peace for me,
Learning experiences all up under me,
25 lives in a distant memory,
Crime Prince Of Crime Signing Out,
Am I Really...