i finally have everything
i have ever wanted
in a human

yet it does not feel enough

he is kind
he is caring
he is artistic
he is hard working
he puts in so much effort for me

yet he is not you
he will never be you
i know that
i understand that

but ****
this is so hard

i am petrified
i will never feel
the way you made me feel

Midnight cravings.

I can't shake the ache
to have you near me again.

Take me to a private place
where we can practice passion
without fear.

Let's take off our clothes in the wilderness.
I'll kiss you,
and I'll keep kissing you until you open for me
the way a morning glory opens for a sunbeam.
I will gaze upon the beauty of your bare soul,
and you will feel the love I have for you shine on you from all angles.

I will always want you this way,
don't ever forget that.

Touch me,
tell me softly through your teeth that you want it rough,
and writhe with me in the dark
until you find your release.
Just know that when the sun really does come up,
I must leave.

I realized today that people are not the top if the food chain,

It may be beleaved that we are,

But that is a common misconception.

We are not the top,

Guns are

it's a perfect morning
sun flickering through spines of
bare trees onto grass and gravel
thick layers of frost covering the car

the perfect kind of morning
where if you shut your
eyes tightly and angle your
body towards the light
the world is so bright it leaks
right through your lids

and when you point your
face towards the sky to
let your hair blow back and
taste the deliciously cool air
it's impossible to decide
if it's april or october

but either option
is a good one

waking up
eyes puffy from
snatched sleep
and anxious
excitement drawing
your insides awake

tablecloths
jars of coffee
big smiles
bouncy feet
too much
nervous energy

things are different
things aren't ideal

but things
are still good
even when things
are bad

and how is that?
because i make
my own ****
rules now

and if i say things
are good
come hell or high water
things will be good
regardless of whether it's
april or october

i fell asleep last night
buried in sand on a
soundstage sunset
all maroon velour and
puffy yellow cinnamon
maple leaf squares

the gold and rose
shimmer my eyelids
were made of ran
down in sweaty
rivulets that dried
into fairy freckles

and i was neither
happy nor relaxed
and yet i was
content

drinking silver wine out
of a deep brown glass
quietly and bitterly
warming my twisted back
until a white robed
bedouin breezed in
on a gust of his own
cool half of the desert

shook me to my feet
and told me that the
blissful gauze over
my minds eye
couldn't last forever
and i had better
catch a camel before I was
consumed by the night

so i handed him a yawn
with a ribbon round it
said that it was not my
responsibility to know
the history of the
ceiling fan by heart
rolled upon my stomach
returning to happier dreams

and still the bedouin
could do nothing but
stare through me with
sun bleached eyes
that pulled my bones
out through the skin
of my back and turned
them whiter than the
moon before the night
had even clambered in
on top of dewy skin
and blushing cheeks

and i drifted away
on an inflatable raft
into the night where
nothing could hurt me