I keep falling in love
with
your
eyes baby
and I can’t stand to see them full of tears. Baby your eyes,
fill my shot glass with your tears,
Ill get drunk.
Not tipsy drunk.
Drunk.
The type of drunk that makes white people want to bring back the black people they’ve killed.
Black out drunk.
The type of drunk that makes my mom accept that I’m in love with you.
Baby, baby girl,
the drunk that makes me write about you.
The poet kinda drunk.
The gay kinda drunk.
The in love kinda drunk.
Baby.
Baby girl.
Your eyes,
they’re full of tears
but I'm a little too drunk to know why.

I wanna kiss you

Real hard

Right on the lips.

Until you pass out,

or until all you can taste is me.

I want to whisper "I love you" while you kiss me

I want to carve my name on your tongue

Then grab the back of your neck and make you kiss me again

and again

and again.

and again

I want you to remember that kiss.

I want to stick my tongue down your throat and lick your heart until the ash of past fires can be cleaned off.

Now; I want to kiss your cheeks and your neck and your fingertips and your stomach and your nose and everything else.

I want to duck tape your ribs

I want to mold your heart back into one piece

I want to sit right in front of you in that lonely table for two.

I want to trace my fingers down your back so **** slowly.

I want

I want

I want

to slur my words into your ear while I fall,

until I fall,

down your throat and into your **** heart.

Darling believe me,

Im afraid to fall for you, into you, so the acid can devour me.

But I would fall.

No parachute, no wings, no safety net. I would fall face flat if I had to.

My goodness dear,

I wish to swallow your voice, your laugh until all I am is walking proof that lips are not all you need to be kissed.

I always joke around about how I am illegal.
People laugh, give me nervous looks, then ask for clarification.
“Wait are you serious?” they would ask as if not being american is lethal.

I always joke around about how I am illegal

I’m not, but once I say that people look at me lesser than equal.
They forget that more than one race is allowed in this nation.

I always joke around about how I am illegal.
People laugh, give me nervous looks, then ask for clarification.

She was laving her insides with gin the night I met her.
She told me she had bullets embedded in her skin which sounded insane, but I still swore I could see them.

That night she only effused about ***
and gin
and her eyes were blue
and I wanted to drown,
to dwell in the sea beneath her eyelids.

She was untruthful.
She said she would be candid with my foreign face,
but all of my words drew tears from the sea I loved to laud.

We were very tired.
I swear she must have cleaned her wounds with ***** a thousand times that night before I could tend to them myself.
I know she was very tired.

Her eyes still blue, still stormy, made my throat close up.
I wanted to be more copious with my words.
To tell her that I wanted to be her gin
her ****
her everything in between,
but I couldn’t,
for she was the beauty I couldn’t grasp with my words but with my heart,
a heart that wouldn’t rightly align with hers.

Before they slaughter the trees
and dry out the seas,

Before they bring us to our demise,

**** every single one of them.
Take their powdered faces and show them the familiar places.

The trees we belonged to,
the farms we melted ourselves into,
our cracked hands and crippled songs.

“We the People of the United States,”
belong to a defective system.

“In order to form a more perfect Union,”
we must ****** any other color but the one starting with W and ending with E.

We must

“Establish Justice,”
through ruptured services provided by
our land of the free.

“Insure domestic Tranquility"
by wearing black blood as medallions
and hanging limbs on walls like taxidermy projects.

They must,

“Provide for the common defense (of their people),
promote the general Welfare (of the 1%),
and
secure the Blessings of Liberty
to ourselves (themselves)
and
our (their)
posterity."

We the people of The United States,
are the opposition.

We the people of The United States,
have become a mixture of burnt down protest and invisible words.

We the people of The United States,
are nothing but pawns in a rigged game of chess.

We the people of The United States,
must
****
just
like
them.

The last time we spoke she said that caterpillars crawl all over her skin.
I found that to be strange.
She was 9 years old.
Brown curly hair, green eyes, short attention span.
When she called for me I would sing because her voice was a melody.
When she cried her tears wrote symphonies.
When she died I could see her name in the clouds.
The last time we spoke, a few days after,
butterflies crawled all over my skin

When you sleep in the house of God you devote your life to molding yourself each and every morning to his liking. You read the script to the best of your ability knowing that the more you drink, the more the words will pile up next to the bottle. But you don't care, you get on your knees, and you pray, and you ask him if being **** is wrong, why did I **** one of your daughters and all she could say was your name? You see, they believe in you just like I believe in music and they trust you just like I trust that she will stay, so why is it so hard to compile all those facts and leave me the **** alone. Happiness and religion are not synonyms. I don't need the world to be against me to lean on him. The entire Milky Way can be falling on my back and I'll still find the strength to carry her also just to give her a glimpse at the stars.

Lately I've been having withdrawal symptoms. I can't sleep, sometimes I can't breathe, I could only think and it's driving me ******* insane that I can't think about you anymore because If I do I'm sure I'll ******* fall down your **** throat again. And yes I ******* mean that because you're the one that had the heart big enough to catch me and after you did you had the audacity to let me fall deeper and deeper until I ******* fell out. How, why did you let me fall out? I was sure I was going to stay within your heart but I ******* didn't and now I'm jumping back and forth between two hearts that aren't even fully mine to keep. It's like they are making me cheep offers that are not even close enough to what you gave me.  I don't mind that it's gone because it was supposed to be gone but who dies without leaving a body behind, you know?

When its time to say goodbye
hold your breath and count
from
1 to 10
because I don’t believe in goodbyes
but when I see that time cant cooperate
I know I have to face my fears
and kiss the surface of your body
until my lips become a part of your skin.

Here It is, straight up, *******, naked words. I miss her. Not all of the time but when I say her name or someone ask me about my brief life before college, I miss her. I don't know how to explain it. I never got the chance to paint my body with love for her and I never got to feel her breath on my skin but her voice and her laugh and her ******* life intoxicated me. She was the happiness before the reality. She was my smile and I may sound like I'm over doing my feelings for her but it was real because there was distance and there was truth in my feelings but lies in the way I told them. There was work being done. Work on myself, work on us. Here's the reality after the happiness. She disappeared when I left. Only God knows why she left but she did and I'm not writing to stitch up a broken heart, there is not a broken heart. I'm writing to remember that a connection like that doesn't need years for it to build but it also doesn't need years for it to make an impact.

I want to tell her that despite all of this,
despite the blood that she bleeds when she slice open her wrist,
this will gradually be replaced by love.

This, this is beauty.

My joy, my wisdom, my freedom shall be her name.

My dearest one, you suffered,
now look ahead,
I shall take away the empty.

There is something inside you, this creed of corruption,
but my eyes see beauty.

I have been waiting for you here.
If I have to wait until the wind calms, then I will wait;
because love is the force that transforms and improves the soul.

This girl reached within my soul,
her hands were exhausted and cold but I told her to dig for what she did not have

She is here.

God has chosen to show her light;
for the world knows a miracle has touched me.

She is a jewel, a treasure.

I do not surrender my treasure, I guard my treasure.