our quiet rooms
compartmentalized
like louis vuitton
to basic calvin kliens
secretly living the best
of our lives
under the stars
and each other’s tired eyes

stone cold killa
knockin' fellas off
they feet, ****** on the bay
writing poetry and
pushing bodies in the lake

she's a killa, man
get off on false promises
of commitment
no 5-o's, no weapon clues
no witness

i'm dead broke
i'm her next target
spending money on happiness
a poem like a wandering outlaw
us, causing sinister stares under the sunset

in the cloister, we had coffee
talking something about the soul
today in the cold but sunlit court
with a good girlfriend of mine
is when it struck me:

a pretty Christian girl kind of day
before me, a butterfly kind of day
winging the dark fantasies away
start obeying and getting good habits
would have stayed had i any money
to get the rest of my college degree
kind of day

filling your heart with my replacements
to match my false interpretations
of your expectations of me

river in the joyful times
river in the elegiac
you give and take away
in your eloquent tongue

wagon, sunlight, lawn chair
subtle victories that make me smile
breathe and melt inside arms
that hold tight to the lapidary

memories that stud themselves
in my brain and the photos
not being old enough to go to the festival
interrupted, the soft fall into the river

America, she bleeds for a full week
fireworks, freedom, long sighs and holy nights
spend days with the couchless and meek
then light one up, sink between in her thick thighs

underage trickery, plastic cards
and daddies to sneak in clubs
lauv on the radio and fake love throbbing hard
forget ancient grudges, clean cars with new suds

party again, launching fire in the sky
avoid the cops and pray salvation
don't come around too soon, twilight and the sea
bug guts on my screen, drinking, repeat until the sun's return