Aug 22
Been talking about you lately,
the pint glass you slung at my skull
in your attempt to ****** me.
We ate the thigh of night
& demanded seconds;
not satisfied, the next day
we stole away from our desks
& kissed on the prow.
Webs of reddened light,
black-gapped fingers like antlers,
God, how we thirsted for it all.
Hair across your brow,
rain against the runny glass,
it was quiet for a moment,
but just a moment,
just a moment.
the pint glass you slung at my skull
in your attempt to ****** me.
We ate the thigh of night
& demanded seconds;
not satisfied, the next day
we stole away from our desks
& kissed on the prow.
Webs of reddened light,
black-gapped fingers like antlers,
God, how we thirsted for it all.
Hair across your brow,
rain against the runny glass,
it was quiet for a moment,
but just a moment,
just a moment.
Now freed from the chains of the Tarot poems, I'm just to try and write my moods now, off the cuff, whatever happens to me gets splashed on the page. Prepare, hahaha.
