That's what I would paint you as.
Bold and bright red.
I think that's why you like them:
not because of the taste, but because they're the closest nature comes to telling your color
And I know you've got a thing or two against nature.

If I were Deaf I think it would be easier to look you and everyone else in the eyes.
I'd sign that I love you. And I'd sign a joke.
I'd say I'm proud of you,
and that you can do better.

I think you want to be that bright-red
confident
desirable
intense,
intimidating

want to be de
                       vo
                           ured

and secretly you dwell on that bitter-inside-of-your-seeds
that crunch, you imagine people might tire of returning to you

I just wish you knew that nobody doesn't eat pomegranates because of the seeds,
it's because they have to spend forever peeling away the outside just to get into the wonderful insides of it; they have to cut into that beautiful exterior hoping that the inside will be just as bright
and let's just say more people go for the red apple

I'd like to one day call you an apple
It has no secrets
and it is just as beautiful

looking from below,
                               my eyes fix,
on your pleasure contorted face,
in the acute urgency,
of a lush, leafy tree,
                             undulating sinuously,
in the hands of
                           the winds of sensuality,
**at the very moment of
                                    efflorescence.

You do not know me
And you did not see
You were not there
When we drank from
The flask and I said
Those words I now regret

You were not there
When the sky was dying
A red evening sky
I was alone with the fire

I want to learn how to be human
I want the old teachers to show me
How to hunt the hunter
How to seek that which cannot be found


If you tell me
Who I am
I will give you my share of crumbs from
Maximillion's table
If you tell me
Who I am
I will write you a thousand poems
Without using that word "because" even once

To place so much on a
drop of amber is foolish and
perilous and brave and wonderful

the convex, the wretch caves
listlessly, she folds
primitive in her ways, she survives

a tear in time
just like the moments in REM
she has control

and her heart!

and her heart!

with teeth, now, with teeth
she opens up and her teeth scream in unison
“we are and thank god for that”

welcomed to her own subconscious
she eats well and sleeps tightly
her food is her madness

serenity:thepeace

serenity:thepeace

liquified dessert cakes
solidified scents
the pink slip

truth be told
she has lived a lucid life
bereft


what a lazy martyr!


what a lazy martyr!