Cheeks aching
Thighs shaking

Am I alive?
Are you real?
I like how this feel     s

Will you be my Valentines?
                                                                                                                 No.


Oh, okay.

You rip my heart out of my chest,
Pink ruffles and all,
And crumble it up.

You swish swish swish it into the trash,
You feel so powerful.

It lays there,
Bottom of the barrel,
Crumpled and beat black and blue.

The pink ruffles are now zig zag bright red.
It wheezes out in desperation.

I scramble to the bin,
Trying to scavenge the leftover pieces.

I pick through the trash,
I look ridiculous,
But I can fix this.

My fingers run over broken glass,
Paper, and even banana peels.

I find it,
The last remnants of my beating heart.

It’s still crumbled up,
But this can work.

I start from image.

I steam press it,
Whisper it sweet nothings,
And kiss it back to life.

It beats.
It beats,
It’s beating.

My heart is alive once more.

Will you be my Valentines?

Yes, heart, I will.

Monkey banana,
Climbing trees and smoking canna
bis, it's bliss, over the abyss.
Monkey banana,
No pants, just bandanna,
Screaming "ooh ooh aah aah"
from inside my cabana.

On banana flower's *******
Three avaricious bats suckle.
Above, few still circle.

Casual ***
is like throwing a banana
down a stairwell
which literally means nothing
until the building you're in
starts asking the banana
to climb higher and higher,
now trapped on the rooftop
where bananas get cornered
for spending so long
inside, like
What were you doing there
just renting? Gee
So where do you think the banana's
Gonna go? Yuppp.

It ducking jumped, k? And that's
Why people be slippin'
(Sometimes on banana peels)