Look at me
I'm not wax. I'm still because I'm sad
And I want you to hold me.

Don't put a lighter by my legs
I'm not a candle that can melt
But I am stuck in place
'Cause I want you to hold me.

Look at me, those purple welts
Are there because I carved them
Into me, my flesh, not wax or dough.
My lips are lilac with infection.

All I want is for you to hold me.

Why do you think I'm wax?
Plastic doesn't melt as fast as me
Because I'm made of weakness
(Weakness and bad decisions)
And it's true I'm unresponsive

But your voice gives me goosebumps,
And goosebumps are real.

Surely? Surely you'd reply
If I told you I'd nearly died, wax can't die

Wax can't die or *****.

I'm waiting for a response because
Its 3:19 and I want you to hold me.

Hot breeze, 90 degrees. My shirt was soaking wet, but I couldn’t tell if it was from the sweat between my ******* or condensed beer bottle dripage falling from above. My days consisted of no work, all play. Vomiting out every ounce of fluid my body could hold once the clock struck 2AM, only to refuse the water and replenish myself with champagne in the morning. Filling myself with bubbles, hoping it’d make me more bubbly. For it was the season of the sun, of life, of vibrance- but I only seemed to be able to drag myself out from under my drunken mistake ridden sheets once night time arrived. I thrived in the darkness. It made it easier to put my tongue in places it shouldn’t have been, whether that be on a random salty neck or a burning bottle of tequila. It was the same cycle everyday, my goal to forget more than the day before. Until I didn’t remember anything anymore. I desperately wanted to find my way back to my old self, but it was left on the side of a road less traveled. A route with winding trails littered with shards of broken whisky bottles, and with every step I took more blood was drawn. But I was finally letting myself feel the pain instead of forcing its head down to drown in the overflowing liquid in my throat. Hotter than hell, late August brought a new fire to my eyes. I still don’t know how I survived the sweet, sweet summertime.

Lights above the summer fair reflect on tins of Super
And there within a sublime madness, I find my lifelong stupor.
Drunk, cry, drink, sky, on our backs in laughter;
But this disparate, foolish love of mine is nothing you are after.
Bass, hearts, twilight, beat; that soundtrack cuts me still,
Above the fair, out of our minds, upon that wind of ill.

                                                                                     TS Lefort 1987

Drunk on honey and milk.
In this dim lit room,
We lay under thin sheets that cling to our bodies with sweat.
The air hangs heavy here,
And it smells of you and I.

We whisper in hushed tones,
We giggle,
We kiss.
Nothing has ever felt as good as this.

Drunk on every touch of skin.
Drunk on every word of sin.
We melt into each other.
We melt into another.

This is what we live for.
This is the moment we die for.

Suddenly,
The rest of the world melts away.
It’s just us two.
You look into me,
And I look into you.

Our hearts dance to their new found rhythm.
Our lungs share the same breath of air,
And with our final sigh.
Our mouths say, “Fulfilled”--
And then we die.

*****

how would you like it

the bartender
sighs the lord’s name in vain
understood the slurred wittiness

wobble onto stool
****** over
joining the rest of the line

sweet

the sound
system jests that one song
about a breakup
puke on the sofa next to your carpet

it’s yellow
swayed hips
shoulders give way

diluted In and Out closed
turn over

moist

to the Devil’s dance floor
where a pretty ugly Frenchie took your wrist
foot strikes a patch of ice
popped cherry on a yellow wheel stop

get up dizzy
scrape on forearm
the impassionate spring fever

wrapped around neck
constrains body against

*****

hands stroked rock hard back

she asks if she could have a stick

reached into baggies
pulled out a yellow
she takes halo
you took halo

got into the convertible

a silent triumph when you insert your key

twist


---
by Aleksander Mielnikow (Alek the Poet)

pour
clink
down
repeat.

maybe
this time
you can take
the heat.

actually,
probably not,
prepare for
defeat.

"I got something to tell you, but don't know how I'ma say it
I guess that I could only say one thing
Boy, I been bad again, Boy, I been bad again
And I use 'em
When I'm faded I forget
Forget what you mean to me
Hope you know what you mean to me
Pick, up your phone
The party's finished and I want you to know
I'm all alone..."
...
I been using them to distract me.
I been using them for fun.
But, the parties finished, and I want you to know, I'm all alone, and I always want you when I'm coming down.

Addicted, to fun like it's a drug.
I take what I like and I like what I take.
But, I always just want you, when I'm coming down.
Baby, don't leave me.
Don't be angry, they not important.
You are.
I need you, not them.
They just toys, but you something special.
I am rather secretive and discreet about my intentions and motives, I don't tell, I don't whisper a word.
I do this sin, without anybody knowing.
No one, but me knows.
I just, always want you, when I'm coming down, daddy.