could i be your several puppies
all i want is you'r hands
on my head all i want is a lot of your hands to
scratch all of my puppy heads
and right behind the ears My puppies eears
i don't mean to hide away from
you i promise i'm not mad im just
afraid of the lightning
and the vacuum too
and sometimes the sound of the radiator
why is it so loud
it sounds like monsters
everything is monsters and you are sweet
your hands on my puppy heads you
are so sweet
we can peruse the Strange part of
the library the partt that burnt down all those thousands of
but, that they rebuilt with religion or science and
filled with Strange fictions
and even Stranger biographies
about people who prolbalbly never existed
or, existed in the ways unicorns exists
there you can read about
things like the history of snowmen
history of how i ****'d her
,you can sit there and i will count your blessings for you you
dont have to i will do it
for you i will do it for
You I Will Do It For You I
am always counting them
in the Strange part of
the library the part that burned down
let's give the splinters between out dum
fat bodies some
time to cool just like a week or two
then i promise i will call or maybe
idk maybe i wont well
well maybe i will
it is snowing on and off for the last three days
only lightly and none of it is ssticking
i cannot name your smile
it is fragile and it does not
but i will give you hope
for it, for it most anything
i will give you
my laugh for it, and by it
through It a new Spring.
i would say to you that "i
do not know your scar"
, but i will give you
a kiss for it
to mend, Oh!
for it to mend, most anything
for you, for your health
Name each planet your name,
each speckled rill of starlight, your name.
but what for
your heart your curse your
for that, my
love i give you my love.
for what is a well if not a falling-in?
for certainly i would fall if it means you
and for what is a hill if not a climbing-up?
a steep, our rite and gauntlet
and for what does jealousy cast if not a shadow?
what of a ghost?
and silent the slow night.
the night but what for the bloodless ghost,
wan and ripe with death??
(the drawn dagger;
the heart for the cutting
and for the bleeding)
Of what do we die if not of love
or if not death then impregnable sleep -
is it that we have but to rot
in the basements of an ocean?
or is it our time a candle diminished?
A Flame Eclipsed, and for a heart a torment the greater
as it is, upon the precipice of Here we stand
and i am but nothing but i have the words that
it was not for you
it was for that i would only have left of you a letter
when you are gone
you have a very pretty nose and i think about it when you are not here sometimes
your smile reminds me of a picture of the cliffs of moher that was the month of june on a calendar my mom owned when i was eight years old in our old house not in that your smile looks anything like the cliffs of moher but in that i do not know why i remember that picture and in that i will most likely never forget it