Take out your sins
Walk them out
Hang them softly
Hook them tightly
Take them roughly
Smell them deeply

Fold them .... smoothly.

Fold your sins FOLD YOUR LAUNDRY.

Eyes open still can't see,
 What my inside want me to be,
      Ears listen everything clear,
        Heart not what it want to hear.
         The mind needs only silence,
           Free from any compliance.
              Body going all exhalation and
                             inhalation,
      Still hardly any sprightly sensation.

Slowly and then all at once
I was beneath the sheet
It touches my nose and sways as I breathe out
Is it pink? Or white?
Who knows

Sheet touching my nose
And I crave nothing
I’m sweet on this sensation
Of cotton wooing my nostrils
And breath circulating beneath my chin for the sake of this prose

Waiting
For the right moment
Just you and I
Looking left & right

Then,
Words so simple,
Just to be certain
That our minds were in sync;
"Would it be okay with you..?"
"Yeah.."

Crescent moons upon the horizons
Then embrace
A kiss
Flowers bloom
Softest petals
For only a moment
Then it's over
Roses upon our faces.

- Jay M
October 24th, 2019

a pearl sat on the softest piece of you, 
at the crossroads of your hips. 
I lean in and kiss it, the delicate taste of salt,
and my cold nose is warmedby your skin, 
the gentle smell of aftershave and flesh.
I look up at you, your prickled jaw looks back, 
you look at your eyelids,
the sensation overcoming you.
that little pearl, a bleached version of your skin,
it is the riches of a thousand oceans.

Water running through toes and over elbows.
Cascading down forearms and up necks.

Falling in stampedes from underneath eyelids
PIT PAT
PIT PAT
PIT PAT
Onto shoelaces and ankles and
Fabric draped across our laps.

This is the feeling of an afternoon spent entangled in
Covers. The sensation of a cold breeze
Swooping us up on its burdensome wings
Only to ask “Where’s my tip?” and the shrugging shoulders
That follow. The rattle of empty pockets. The
Shattering of glass and a cry for HELP
So incredibly ARDUOUS it slices your throat
Like a steel blade
SSSSSS SSSSSSSSSSSS
SSSSSSSSSSSSSSS SSSSSSSSSS
SS­SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS
And the clock doesn’t stop ticking
Around and around until you’re too dizzy.

This is the feeling of water running through toes and over elbows. Cascading down forearms and up necks. This is the feeling of an afternoon spent entangled in covers. The feeling of a cold breeze swooping us up on it burdensome wings. The feeling of a cry so arduous it slices your throat like a steel blade.