the sun drips
like
a
yellow yolk

oozes
down
the gold knots
of my spine
breathe the first of Spring days
the radio plays our favorite song

i see you backwards
quickly
all the times we had
vulnerable;
gone.

the sky is blue, the lake is blue
your eyes are blu
and they say i look like your
sister
oh gods. help me
i can’t feel anything
except you
and everything here is you

baby please dont go
feel your beautiful body
naked spine of windy America

like jameson nights
i pick dare over truth
and feel sweat over
a bleeding glass

didn't cut me
or break me
kiss away the bad news

settled in a glass grown vineyard,
the sleep-addled living room
door with gutteral hinges, making friends
with pall mall smoke rings
and let ghost blood spill all over
on couches and our moncler's
wake up to the sound of you crying
on the staircase feeling the scratchy carpet
through blankets on the bed
like my heart is teething, hurting again
he picked me up and lay me there
like you once did except you've been dead
for five years

fall in love with the idea of drugs
shed skin and become the person
your parents told you to never be

without ever noticing you're growing
up at the speed of light
seven sleepless days and you're feeling loose

under the belly of a windless night
rorschach tests, bottles and naked america
clothing herself next to you while you scroll through your phone

i want to be a somebody to someone
to carry more than just a solitary wail
of a train across a train track north
in the view of a blazing, starry night
and the view of withered fields

i want to carry this torch boldly into
the sunset horizon, to love and to cast
caution to the wind with reckless abandon
that tigress that cannot be tamed
one who wins all the arm wrestles

travel six times around the globe
and see everything with my hands
not just my eyes

other times, i can just curl up
and realize the only thing i can do
is relinquish myself in the crevice
of your arm and shoulder quietly
equal passion there as much as the silence
of the unknowns out there

woke with hypothermic and shaky skin
a thought: we are made of street lamps
and damp grass feet dripping dew tonight

we live in the color blue under electric moon
and my skin and clothes will be lined up
on top of the dresser for you to sink your teeth in later

my hands are cold in their lipping grasps but your
hips are warm, and desert breathes dragonfly
and smells of chlorine, our legs kaleidoscope

in the pool's reflection.
i am still cold, i am still in spring breaks
broken and inviting your scent back in my life.

I'm curious about you
want to touch
the places
you've been
and the places
your body's touched

but my mind screams
like a thunder spirit
all you do is
use her
rock her back and forth
all you do is
use ******
rock back and forth

South side
acting west side
and no direction
in my eyes
no future and I'm feeling
more and more
like a waste of time
nothing new

letting loose old chains
you and your wry laughter
defeated by the day old machines
of life and their constant clogging

time's hands tear into spring
nail first, peeling off the light constricting canopy
twisting barbwire off delicate skin
strangling you on a couch from hell

wake up to the smell of bourbon
and dead roses - so pretty
your lashes creating the shadows
on your gaunt cheekbones, and your name is Soul

then there is you in all your theatricality
chasing gelid wind like its a nowhere job
selfies on snowy sidewalks
have we more time than just one
or two? have you enough of my futility?
when angels sweat they let out
icy winds and rain but
when you carassed my cheek
i felt the cool of the breeze smoothing my skin
and i understood to make my feet move
after the wind and never stop

it's ok to:

        1 prefer tea over coffee
        2 say i don't know
        3 have off days
        4 have days off
        5 ask questions
        6 work how you want to work
        7 tidy desk
        8 messy desk
        9 hand messy phone calls to me
      10 depend on the team
      11 forget things
      12 use the bathroom when you need to
      13 wear sweats every friday
      14 have quiet days
      15 have loud days where you joke and laugh

Have a good ****-day. We almost made it to the weekend!