i like angry poetry
the kind that churns
in your gut,
with razors for teeth
and gums bleeding.
i like the violent sound
of verbs clashing
on a decaying page,
like the shot of a gun
on a quiet day.
i like the poetry that stays,
that lies in waiting
like a dog in a cage,
words that creep like
voided birds into the
wired tress of my brain,
that pay their rent
like drunken travelers
and trash the place.
i like angry poetry
the kind that sears it's
screams to my lips,
which spirit echoes and
moans for eager,
****** eyes.
words that hit like *****,
giving their reader
a killer hangover.
i like angry poetry,
the kind that leave you
with a smoky exit.

Sometimes I like to imagine what it'd be like if we had met when we were 6.
I imagine us both meeting at the playground;
Playing tag,
Climbing things,
Catching bugs.
A world of wonder for two young souls where anything is possible.
I imagine a great dragon breaking free from beneath the ground and swirling in the air,
I imagine a forest fairy who reveals herself only to those who have the capacity to believe and keep her existence a secret.
I imagine asking you,
"Wait, so are we friends?"
The way I would after playing with someone new for the first time,
and I imagine you nodding your head the way children do and saying, "Yes."