give your body to a winter's boy-
he'll lay you down, strip your clothes
and you'll undress even further than that
but he'll leave you in the cold
and push your so far under his bed
he forgets he ever had such parts of you
in his own two hands and
never gave them back
you're frozen, now,
and you wait all spring
to find summer's girl
and all she does is hold your hand
and you're standing in a pool
of the ice melted around your skin.
next thing you know,
you're in a palet she made on the floor
on her balcony, overlooking the railroad
and the greenest forest on the other side
and it's 3 in the morning and
you're smoking a cigarette
to get rid of the taste of alcohol and sugar
but then you kiss her and
she tastes the same way.
you don't want the season to end
but you're still watching yourself
glow from the inside out.

Carcinogenic gasps
between photogenic thighs
create esoteric muscle movement
that moves me inside.
Your parents are therapists,
and mine choose not to be alive;
the words they say
don't work for moments we hide.

Jesus Christ before the sunset rust,
if I'm so alive
then why do I lust
absence.

There's a place
where I'd like to drown
every Saturday.
The water's warm
and thick in my lungs
and I'm no longer afraid.

Colliding with epinephrine,
your neck thrusts forward;
you kiss the steering wheel.
"Do you know
how much
you mean to me?"
Your eyes meet mine  
before disappearing in the glass mist.
I love you.

I can’t hear
anything
because sound
doesn’t live
in my ears,
it lives out of
everyone
and
everything
else
and it
slinks
into me.