i.
fascination
sings "*******"
in a los angeles bar.
tests lips
on picnic tables.
feel the bark in my
back against the tree
and the backseat
of my car.

ii.
infatuation
takes shots of tequila
in mission cantina.
eager, greedy
sliding up my skirt
in the bathroom.
follows the path
to sneak glances
in my bed.

iii.
satisfaction
sits on your couch
drinking wine coolers
in the dark.
silent infomercials
and jungle beats
your hips and mine.
rough hands fading
down my leg.

iv.
desperation
whispers by a pool
hushing crushed hearts.
not the time
not the place
a forced reality to face.
avoids complication
holding my tongue
inside my chest.

Voiceless rhythms bounce and drop
slip, slide across marble tops
and under chairs, churning in the ash
of charred cigarettes
collapsed but still remain.

Shake the dust down
stale dingy stairwells cracking at the seams
with ripped rust rushing through trembling veins
in shallow skin of lace and waste
sour to the taste.

Falsettos a flailing feather
fanning her fed neck and
across the cheek, blooming
below beaming eyes and brushed red lips
cascading smoke dribbles from the nose.

Limp, lifeless, low
tremors fade atop a sleeping stage
stolen from absorbing orbs, an amber-orange glow
spinning specks of reflecting abyss
paling the pock-marked moon
lune, dune, soon awoken
swept away to somewhere new.