I don't think, I really want this...

But surely, I
still have the eyes, to perceive
that she's the kind of,
fever dream
that makes grown men, and women,
lament, and weep

for the way, her jeans
gather round, her knees, and thighs--
for the way, her eyes...
pay homage, to the ancient skies...

would you take...a ride?
And, hey...would I...?
I don't think I might...

but she asserts her swerve,
with a certain sway,
and her curves,
would serve,
as hors d'oeuvres,
for days.
Her fruity lips...
with a sparkle glaze

they trickle...dark...as marmalade.
But if harvested, late...
what's their carnal taste?

...Is she the mark, on the grave,
by which, I think...I know myself?

No...I don't think I really want this...

not a shiver, runs through me.
But, sue me...for looking,
when she's so ******* juicy...
does it consume me?
Does it titillate me?
...I don't feel me, hyperventilating?

What if she turned, to face me?
To lay me, lace me
between her thighs...
internalized; eternal lies,
to sate me,
with her flavor, to bait me
acerbic, and savory...
Her skin, burning, like a lamp wire,

and her fingertips, debasing me.
What if I, was her vampire,
and she,
the one slaying me?
A slaking queen...
aching to break, her thirst...
so, what if I staked her, first...?
Would she mortify,
like ash?
Or would she forge, a lighted path,
and make me wish,
she had, forced...my hand?

No...I don't think I really want this...

not a shiver, runs through me.
But, sue me...for looking,
when she's so ******* juicy.

I woke up under the sun/in my throat/in a prison cell/on someone else’s bed.
The mirror said hello/goodbye/nothing/my name.
I brushed my teeth/stared at my reflection/spoke to the sink/bled a little.

She was waiting in my bed/on my roof/in my mailbox/not at all.
She said: I missed you/I made you/I warned you/I’m not real.
I said: Me too/I know/I’m sorry/Who am I?

I put on my coat/face-mask/body/new name.
Went outside/stayed inside/went sideways.
The street looked like a dream/a crime scene/a question mark/my old bedroom.

Someone grabbed my wrist/my leg/my shadow/nothing.
They asked: “Did you mean it?”
And I said: Yes/No/What did I say?/Who’s asking?

turn off the big
light
the cand
le ts lay toge
ther e will be no
space betweenus
we will catch fir
e mbraced together

I see what I do,

I walk toward it too,

I fly where I stitch the new.

In this eternal dream,
I wake.

Wake up.

Sounds become feels,

The chapter spins and reels,

I watch the scenery shift and peel,

Taking the weight of what it deals.

Wake up.

I begin to see,

A cage that begs to break free,

A silent plea caught endlessly
A dance with death,
a fleeing decree.

Wake up.

Is this real?

Nothing begins to feel.

The past bleeds into the future’s seal,

Bound to a fate I can’t repeal.

Wake up.

A S̵͖̉͝o̵̡̞͓̖͊̀́ư̶̛̺̻͛̽͂̋̈n̸̝̜̖̥̓̎̆̏ḓ̶̰̥̝͕̗̟̓͑́̾̃̈̋̿̏̑ͅ?

A bed of comfort found.

A pulse that hums beneath the ground.

Or is it not so round?

Ŷ̷͍͙͚̝̈́̆͂͐̚͝͝ö̷̩̳͙̯́̿͜ͅu̵̼̘̞̳̣̓͌͐̏̔̇’̶̢̹͛͑̀̍̈́̓̐͑̈͠r̴̈́̈́͆͌­̯̲̱͚̬͇̠̤̯̖̄́̊͗͋͝ė̶̟͎̭̱̓͆̋̈̾͐̈́̕ ̶̫͔̤̟̫̯̥͉́̾ǹ̷͍̉̅̓̓̆̃o̸̢͙͐̾t̴̥͆ ̷̘̖̰̯͖̘̙̂r̵̨̛̘͚̲̈̈ͅe̶͇̙̭̙̽͋͒͜ǎ̴͍̙͚̹͗͛̽̌͝l̶̤͖̇͋̽̆.̶͈̣̩̱̦̉̀̅̐̿̈́̉̚͠­̯̣͕̫