i wanna touch your body and make it mine
mold your chest into my chest, steal the curves of your shoulders,
i want the angles of your hands, the strong lines of your jaw,
rebuild myself with the clay He could have chosen to give me,
but gifted you with instead.

The walls, painted with the gloss of all the secrets that you and only you know, or the stuffed animal that has caught your tears through life’s afflictions. Or, the comforter that has kept you warm through those times where you swore this was the night your blood will run cold. Theres a furry, doe eyed, four legged creature of the heart, though there isn't an utter of any sort from either entity, there is a knowing. Stripped to your raw essence, he understands without question.

(a letter to Orpheus)

to catch a glimpse of an unwanted occurrence
how long will I have to be a disturbance?
your eyes, always hungry for the moon's elevation
aren't we supposed to address our questions?
so, hear me out—every Wednesday
reminds me of the wild shatters
missed opportunities being tossed out the window
abruptly taken away, getting stuck in a limbo
days of the week relentlessly drifting away
like a fire losing its flame

how could i ever forget?
the silence between the loudest horns
the music bellowing like an unstoppable storm
we could have made it right
but if fear begins with me
that... serves us right.

This is the story of Good-Time Tim
That I sit down to tell you today
No matter the weather
No matter the season
This man just wanted to play

And rain always calls for a raincoat
Boots and a hat for good measure
But Tim didn't need any protection from the storm
In the downpour in fact he took pleasure

His father put the pressure on
From a young age expected perfection
So when he grew up he got the hell out of dodge
Moved far away from parental correction

He was always in a drinking mood
Any time of day or night
If you caught him four drinks or more in
Whew! He was quite a sloppy sight!

This is the story of Good-Time Tim
That I sit down to tell you today
No matter the weather
No matter the season
This man just wanted to play

He drank hard alcohol and beer
Without discrimination
Either one would work just fine
For his goal of inebriation

He was a bit too rough on his body
Which is an overly gross understatement
He neglected his health and mental well-being
In reckless pursuit of entertainment

He wasted his life away getting wasted
Never pausing to consider that he might be missing out
Too self-destructive to attract a wife
So a family he chose to live without

This is the story of Good-Time Tim
That I sit down to tell you today
No matter the weather
No matter the season
This man just wanted to play

There was the time Tim broke his shoulder
Falling out of a tree
Because someone bet he couldn't reach the top
A task that proved to be an impossibility

Tim hardly ever brushed his teeth
So they all fell out by age 45
But considering his lifestyle
He was just lucky to still be alive

Surprisingly he was a religious man
Although not one page of the bible did he read
He had heard Jesus turned water to wine
That was all the preaching he'd ever need

This is the story of Good-Time Tim
That I sit down to tell you today
No matter the weather
No matter the season
This man just wanted to play

As he grew old he began to slow down
But not once did he ever regret
The countless mistakes he had made through the years
I guess the ***** made him forget

His liver held up for a very long time
But eventually started to rot
But for Tim it was too late to get sober
So he still swallowed shot after shot

When the doctor gave him his fatal diagnosis
He laughed and said "I'm ready to go
But make sure I'm buried with a bottle
In case they don't serve liquor way down there below!"