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Jordan Jun 29
and wasted,
I’d **** for hydration.

Lift those beams
above the clouds,
so I may drink
from your heavens.
Jordan Jun 29
I ****** in the corner over there,
below the lamp post
where we shared our first kiss.

I scratched our initials
into the steel pillar.

It felt good,
claiming that light post
for your next lover
to whiff out.
Jordan Jun 29
I woke up today,
forgiving myself
for letting you leave
with an empty stomach.
Jordan Jun 28
and wasted,
I’d **** for hydration.

What a blessing,
to lift your beams
above the clouds,
giving way to your heavens.
Jordan Jun 11
I gained consciousness, slowly opening my eyes to a kaleidoscope of beaut.

Her soft pink lips revealed her perfect teeth as a stalk of some sort danced in it as it balanced between her left thumb and index. I could not make out the rest of her beautiful brown face, but I knew I didn't need to see more.

She was perfect.

She asked if I was okay; I nodded as I slowly fell back into the void.

When I rose again, she was no more.

I don't remember my name, but I know I fell in love.
Jordan Jun 8
Her house sat on the edge of a hill, up there with the shot callers. She was an entrepreneur who was interested in representing me; she said she can make me the next Bukowski.

I laughed. “There will never be another Bukowski.”

Her living room laid in the house's corner, like roadkill, surrounded by three glass windows in place of walls. I saw no speakers, but Coltrane played throughout.

Fifteen minutes into my poetry, she suggested we drink, which led us to inhale several bottles of red. She would make comments about some of them, followed by reasons for unbuttoning her shirt. From my seat I watched the sun fall from the sky, dragging bright yellow with her as the Moons blanket draped.

“I love it,” she said, “We can take this around the world.”

I liked that.

I like it when people genuinely like my pieces; it fills my void of existence.

I thanked her.

We danced in celebration until we ended up on the floor, dizzy and hot. She started working her hands, creating paths on my body.
She assured me she didn’t do this often. This was new to her.

I believed her.

Her eyes confirmed it.

She got up from the floor, telling me she would wash up and for me to wait in her bedroom, the second door to the right next to the bathroom.

She hurried off.

I walked over to the enormous windows and looked out to the city; it was gorgeous, then I walked my *** out of there.

I figured she wouldn’t be able to help me because there will never be another Bukowski.
Jordan Jun 8
I wake up, **** drunk, with a headache that quakes at my temples and somewhere towards the rim of the tail of my head, that dense pocket. It takes my brain for a spin while I’m removed.

I attempt to get myself up off the seat I fell asleep in. My grip slips on the wood grain handles. It’s imported legs rub against the wooden floors, shrieking.

I try once more.

I triumph.

I slinky over to the kitchen where I wash my face in the sink, hoping to rinse off some alcohol that has seeped through my pores.

The frigid water wakes me up, opening up my lungs at whatever time it may be, wherever I may be.
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