the moment we are born
we are dying.
mortality forcing metamorphosis.
a road-trip of adolescence.
slipping into cali oceans,
baptizing bodies in
*** and drugs.
aren't we all sinners?
the bed creeks with
sounds of passion,
gasps of breath.
zippers unzip, shirts are peeled
off skin, like bananas.
a monkeys favorite treat.
lips meet neck.
tongues weave through organs.
the pulsing addiction for the
forbidden fruit.
the garden of Eden is now swirls of
vanilla and caramel,
intertwining fingers
between passes of a j.
time feeds the day with
sunshine and fear.
while sinners accept mortality.