I

Please, pretty pastoral blue
with the force of a stem through muck
tangled up with the rose's hue
lift me up and lift me higher
drag me throughout the earth,

i can taste the dirt in your fingernails and it tastes beautiful...
so beautiful, for it belongs to you
and you don't belong to words or images or interpretation
you are you and you are my saviour in every way as I'm yours

so Please, take me apart
and take me away
i am not this poem nor this painting
i am not an art as i would like to be
and neither are you, but together we conjoin to form an embryo of melody

like bubble's dispersing their seeds to the sea
at the fastest hardest softest gentlest stupidest cheekiest sexiest pleasantest frame viewable
as well as the sparks out of frame.

If I die only to be reborn I know you'll be with me

like a thorn in my heart waiting for its day to be found,
snagged, ripped and knitted into a cardigan to keep me warm apparently forever

only to be slipped and slid until wrangling unbound;
you are a metaphor too cheesy to put into words—
so **** sounding forced I'll just say i love you
i love you
i love you
i love you

i love you so much it hurts to straddle this trapeze rope weaved in leather tobacco smoke
That holds ongoing lies aswell the truth that would break you and i know you've your own trade's –i wasnt born yestardy–
(although at times when i wake up it can feel that way)
Yet i use that as a sort of faux sawdust justification; the truth is that I’m too weak to face my weakened state
and confront it head on, until today... so please please listen when i say that
I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you I love
You.

II

I played too much music too loud and now I'm sound-numb
sounds dumb, dont it? did you expect me to be handling
the transition well? Whole family is dying and I just want to be wanted
And my thoughts can feel like such a burden
So please, tie no jealousy to my concerns
cause if your mind was like mine half the time you'd know
not to even ask,

and you dont,

most of the time,

yes, she is the emerald rowed a million lifetimes or more
caught in its blink-length transition to gold...
too beautiful for words or colours to even briskly define
and I am yours and in my fantasy of you you are mine,
two wisping spirits whispering esoteric bitemarks in the dark!
hear that thunder? that's my heart.
hear that struggle, that's my breath.
think its going strong? that's the cocktease surge before my death
and my death is so holy to me as yours is to you and hers to ours

I spent the day binding the clockarms over wrinked beige
every day feels  the same

although i do try so hard to be your star
i spent the day tracing papertrails trying to make the lexicon fit our names
but its as good to me as sanskrit, as the dirt is to the seas that birthed it
and womb it still.
You sleep at my side and transition your nightmares into mine
one quiver at a time,
hold me close, this preaged preworn deformed flesh of mine is not my skin,
hold me closer, feel my skin become yours as fingertips scape out a chin
and a neck, curling trickling like tiny raindrops downeth
to the place once signified and defined as ***** sin
not the art nor stretch-marked temple it is

Blossoming blossoming blossoming in chaotic collision and marking love

Beyond a touch or a name or a place

And yes, i still feel her
Calloused and pliable as playdough

Rubbing palms and clasping
Together into a cocoon
To awaken tomorrow as a whole new entity.
I feel more whole for my confessions although
You hate me for it,
I feel more myself for my confessions
And I’ve never felt so lovingly distant...

Being optimistic, I just say 'who knows what tomorrow will bring'

And strum this whisper into your snoring song.

So please,
Be here tomorrow.