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wesley camarillo Mar 2020
skins translucent,
hearts on your sleeve,
doesn’t matter how hard
ya try to hide it,
no ones that naïve.

wesley camarillo Mar 2020
how do you still make my heart
fester and swell and thump thumpity
jump to the brim of my throat
like a frog waiting to belch it’s
morning croak croakity—
choking back his thick, velvety shot of tarish espresso
knowing **** well there was nothing else in the world
he wanted to drink drinkity, let
sink sinkity into the lining of his stomach
to drown out the fluttering butterflies
of self afflicting lust. tsk.

and now i can’t even look your way,
without feeling like I took a step
LEPT too far, and i missed the lilypad
by an inch!
so of course, I splashed splashity
crashed into its chill— still surface,
distorting it and rippling my surroundings
still while being submerged
in this silly, suffocating. pond i call

wesley camarillo Mar 2020
I. Sometimes i feel like I’m in that bubble she’s blowing
Hot and sticky
Rendering my perception from within
muffled and distorted, suffocating

II. My world— my bubble
Sends me spinning
Knocking into the scalding walls,
Marking my arms and cheek
With hot, gooey kisses
Of molten glass

III. One end darkens, a shadow
Casts over me, inside my bubble.
And suddenly it’s hot, it’s bright!
And I’m still! Spinning!!

IV. The neck snaps free,
Cooler air rushes in my now
Tapered, open bubble
Giving me a chance at a glimpse of
A clear surrounding
All soon interrupted by another
Flash of light, another blast of heat

V. And then
An invasion, all while my bubble
Kept spinning!
Following my tumbling body,
Around the edges of my bubble,
A pair of metal claws gripped
The opening, opening, opening
Until the seaport sized window
Of my bubble
Became a hole big enough to
Climb through


— The End —