he was your Door your floor for you to walk on.
lips to press against light making the day
look like night in comparison.
is
grammar all i get? does the wit piss off
and leave my lungs like wind and puke?
music does it, four me.
1music
2what i already feel
3you
4everything else
i swell Crescendo a catalyst string cheese section
of bittersweetmorsel perferationperfection.
piercing me from the outside in and back again i'm
letting wounds heal the long way taking the scenic route
and enjoy the unfinished road.
thirty picturepoemsplay in my brain all at once- i
grab my butterfly net to try and capture as many
creatures
as
i can.
take my hand and
stroll be my leash and love
me taste good be
mine domestic life strife
rifles through my chest as i do my best
to keep it there.