"contorting" poems
When his eyes first fell upon her
She was choosing avocados
In the fruit and vegetable aisle.
And he watched how her thumbs lingered
On the base of the alligator pear
And pressed, maternally.
He feigned interest in the cabbages
Whilst sensing her delicate architecture
Through his peripheral gaze.
He thought that somewhere,
In real or imaginary life,
They would soon bathe together.
And when they did,
They soaked for years in secrets,
Details suffusing through their lips and arms,
Water-hole satisfaction and moonlit deserts
To make them feel they might have transcended cabbages
And be pervading a rhapsodic realm
They forgot their friends watching in greenery,
Subsumed by each-other,
They felt no need
To live in a world of relativity and apples.
Their love-traced sphere tightened around them,
Until it ****** at the edges of their skin
And wailed when they parted.
Tighter it grew, elastic dug into their humid thighs
Contorting their once harmonic bodies
That used to fit like crosswords.
And they each became ugly to the other
As the seconds ingested their perfection
And they bickered like flailing urchins
In a deep sea soiled darkness.
Decisions were made and paroxysms detonated
And they were taken back by their
Fungal friends with tissue offerings
And ethanol.
Time passed, and memories were binned
Periodically on tuesdays
Until neither knew the other
And they would pass in the supermarket
With no more than a quickened gait
And a silent thud in each ribcage.
But neither could buy avocados.
Nov 16, 2011
Nov 16, 2011 at 12:18 PM UTC
Is not equivalent to a broken leg.
Who came up with that analogy?
Someone who hasn't experienced either
Seems the only probability.
It's far more akin to a giant spasm,
Contorting your leg against your will,
And stopping it seems highly unatural,
And each doctor prescribes different pills.
Nobody has fluctuating broken legs,
Or fractured limbs that cause them to count
The precise number of steps they take,
And despair if it's the wrong amount,
Or healing bones that turn reality
Into hallucinatory nightmares,
Or make you stay awake all week,
And start berating chairs.
But the worst of that analogy
(It drives me quite insane!),
Is that broken legs are quick to heal,
And cause a lot less pain.
Aug 12, 2018
Aug 12, 2018 at 2:00 PM UTC
I bowled three games tonight.
Possible paths to victory skipped rocks in my mind,
Until the ball dropped.
I won and lost.
My face flushed.
My skills wavered,
Such a tragic player.
A strike, a ball doomed to the gutter.
What did it matter?
When the lanes burst with laughter?
Friends, arcades, night bowling.
Fingers contorting.
Strange shoes and watching feet behind the line.
No passing it, no crime.
All win in the end.
Bowling alleys- hidden gems.
Jul 12, 2014
Jul 12, 2014 at 2:36 AM UTC
I walk alone,
Turning aimlessly left and right,
Feeling the cold from the rain seep through to my dismal heart.
Hot tears stream down my grief stricken face,
Contorting in and out of melancholy shapes,
Allowing my pitiful sobs to seep out.
My chest is tight with my broken heart,
Burning with every shaky breathe taken,
Surprisingly resisting the urge to cave in all together.
The world is bland,
Every color seems to have faded to shades of black and grey,
Doleful rain falling aimlessly to the ground.
Cheerful people sing in the rain,
Dance through the streets,
Jump in the forming puddles.
But me?
I walk on,
Sensing the cold swishing of my feet in my soaking shoes,
Craving to be unnoticed and left with my dismal heart.
Sep 8, 2016
Sep 8, 2016 at 10:43 AM UTC
Clear, serene, crystal pool of collected calm
naked to the eye, deceiver of the deceived.
I see myself in you.
And so much i hate.
For you spectators are sport;
To be picked and plowed, ticked and crossed.
Making old wrongs new.
Fooling all.
You lie to my face, I see how you
bend and twist your shape.
Contorting my view. Calling me untrue.
Nothing is upfront.
My hands are tied behind, a foot above
hovers the dagger.
It hangs, yellow, brittle, jagged canine.
Reminds me of your smile.
Villains smile. One day I will rap a knuckle,
crack your rattling skull.
I will open that box and set evil upon the world.
All I have ever known.
Seven years bad luck;
better than a life time.
Mar 17, 2012
Mar 17, 2012 at 9:39 AM UTC
City lamps in clusters of concrete
On 18th and Sherman street
The cars pass by scanning me
Each unsound engine roaring
Darting pupils
I feel it on my externals
On my lips and phalanges
Intruding glances cascading over
my silhouette
Deja-vu-like resemblances,
strange
Sunken cheeks look bizarre
and blotchy as the socket drains
something toxic to the veins
that's permeated the future in an instant, like a comet,
encandescent and shimmering like a scale, the awareness fades
Like some dreary mirage
I remember those little band aids
Vintage carnival tickets
discarded on the scratchy ground..
Blue-violet bruises
The paradox of pleasure
A vague creature in
it's discomfort
sitting in defiance and
quivering my sentences
It reminded me of those
incandescent bugs that
smush into Chryslers
With a curled lip, bulging eyes
and ******* up tongue...
Antennaes intertwined like
Twizzlers
Making peace with all
that's stung as the
windshield wipers turn on
Some black tar-smack-oil-
******
My generation consists of
inheriting environmental
destruction and mal-parenting
Global warming. Animal extinction.
Polluting the oceans. Deforestation.
Biting shards off night-time to
suffice for the daily pangs
Shuffling the dregs of karma
to grow roots and vines all about the room
It's not Winter yet
Under this morning dew
I envision it in my mind
A crystal ball vision
contorting into smoke
I caught it in my breath
Catatonically hanging
A turtle with it's legs bending toward the sky
Searching for my tribe and a pulse
on this Earth in sentient souls
Aug 12, 2017
Aug 12, 2017 at 8:18 PM UTC
Sarin –
An organic molecule
Used for inorganic purposes
Showering civilians
Effectively icing their insides
Contorting the human form into forced frozen sculptures
Acting as if torture was an art of the highest caliber
An acquired taste reserved for society’s finest
And this was the Michelangelo masterpiece.
Atropine –
The organic antidote,
Shoot up the stimulant to hurdle your paralysis,
Relax the respiratory muscles caught in your throat,
Your eyes team with tears because you’re allowed to melt,
Your eyes team with tears out of profound shock,
Your eyes team with tears because humans forgot humanity.
Sep 9, 2013
Sep 9, 2013 at 9:41 PM UTC
before existentialism, and nietzsche in mind, philosophy was written
or spoken of accepting the socratic rigidity of words,
the rigidity of words known through
the socratic method of inquiry:
the simplest of questions imposed on
the meaning of words; e.g. what is virtue?
but with existentialism this old method
of inquiry, the poised posing bewilderment
lost its quality, in that the new method of
inquiry was given to stress not a method
of questioning but that of ambiguity,
even though this new method that simply
said the reverse of what is virtue as
the preservation of a narrative: "virtue" concedes
many variations exampled true, e.g. -
this dittoing going against - previously said /
as above - became staged against
a brick wall - since this method, the existential
method of brushing aside inquiry and entering
the realm of ambiguity was already present -
the pluralism of meaning found in certain words;
it isn't a question whether red or blue can
be ambiguous, this allocation of noun
and quality is all too pervasive - so when
an ambiguity is allowed to exercise its stressor
posit - the word in question is allocated
a verb orientation in its exercise of use and example,
further diluted by the quantity and lack of example,
and ascribed contorting
adjectivity due to the dilution of meaning: with lessened
recognition of sought out qualification to sentence
an enzymic perfection of: banker and philanthropist,
priest and maximilian kolbe, poetry and lack of envy.
even though these examples are idealistic,
they provide the obvious ambiguity already apparent,
hence the double ambiguity of opposites, ideal opposites.
in shorthand - if socrates were to come
upon reading existentialism - his questions
regarding the virtues would be bound to free floating
terms in the ditto bubbles of flimsiness of non-inquiry -
bewildered by the number of prompts to question,
there would be no necessary ambiguity to many other
terms of inactivity - such as the previously mentioned
red and blue, dog and glue, but too many, it would seem,
should a strict belief in categorising virtue as a noun
but not a verb be kept - for categorisation of such nature
only provides a linear cascade without due action
or cared for imitation - ending with the only chance of virtue
chanced and seen as an unvirtuous person
doing crossword puzzles in silence - and already
virtue's opposite is engaged in defending itself
and justifying its ills by first forcing many synonyms to
cover it in ambiguity, and asserting itself as an adjective
within a noun framework blunt: virtue v. unvirtuous
will only confiscate siamese phonetic mingling to ease the definition;
i guess that's how rhyming was born, the opposite
of alphabetical ordering: a, aardvark the violet's blue
****** a doughnut with you.
Sep 22, 2015
Sep 22, 2015 at 11:31 AM UTC
Mountains’ majesty
a cave of amethyst brews
confidence in its own perfection
near the peak peeking into the
crayon colored clouds.
Desire for a moment free from earth
where right above our heads
the world is colorfully candid
through a foggy wine-stained film.
Glossy sun through glossy eyes
entices the mind enough
to lift legs one thousand and two
steps up the mountain
coiling through indigo trees
on turquoise trails until
we pass the purple threshold
where it’s best to pass the time.
Pomegranate lips smile
stretching pomegranate skin
yours tastes like otter pops and ***
mine I imagine is similar
with a hint of bad decisions.
This reality is unrealistically appetizing
contorting trails contort minds
peaking at the sunset so close
I swear we’re almost there.
Oct 23, 2013
Oct 23, 2013 at 2:55 PM UTC
I am wayworn
run over
self-abused
caught in the length of
her skirt contorting my
body in hope
of releasing
the rabbit trap
videotaped
unresponsive
drugged like a
medication ****
so
please
leave me alone
officer I was stalking
myself in the park
not her
no
never her
because she is
me and I am
no one
Sep 28, 2015
Sep 28, 2015 at 12:56 PM UTC
Living life on the edge--
Always wondering when the next
Unearthly shiver, the next
Wave would crest and fall on you and
Everything would slow down for a few
Seconds
(They felt like hours)
When your insides would
Flip and freeze and
Everything was out to get you
But you were--
Stuck between cobwebs, face
Contorting (only on the inside)
--A short eternity
Jailed between the suffocating
Walls of your crimson-coloured
Mind.
(No escape)
Sep 2, 2015
Sep 2, 2015 at 3:43 AM UTC
if you give me a few minutes i'll trick you into thinking that i enjoy your company
like a jester i'll flop around in my jingly hat
contorting to the contours of your personality.
i'll convince you we're best friends
i'll come see if you're ok when you're sitting alone
i'll feed the insecure monster in your ribcage lipstick and
"my god, that shirt is way too big for you".
it's not even that i don't like you or something
i do
it's just that i have no time but i pretend that i
do
and i like to help other people instead of myself
and
i know i'm about due for a relapse
and
i know that i won't tell anyone
and
i know i'll keep helping you
even though you'd never dream of doing the same for me
and
i know that this ******* *****
but i have decided to be a charismatic jester
this is where my home is
and i don't have enough money to jump ship
Oct 10, 2013
Oct 10, 2013 at 12:35 PM UTC
what i find beautiful were the breathed conversations we shared between the kisses we shared and this whole situation is reaching into my cavities and contorting my heart into places of infinite joy and infinite sorrow and infinite apologies maybe you will never feel the same way but i do and god the way you hold me will be imprinted on my skin on my flesh on my left ventricle forever because **** i miss you and **** i miss your companionship but i cannot ask for you back and now all i have are three perfect weeks of a simulation of how it could be like and how we could have driven each other crazy with our thoughts and our love but i guess it is always like this right the most beautiful things are the ones that exist in your head and never manifest into reality because reality is messed up and this is why all of this is an absolute beautiful mess.
May 8, 2014
May 8, 2014 at 11:36 PM UTC
We who shuffle seamlessly along history's ****** banks,
And think our lives are pointful, filled up with meaning,
Yet believe prayers are unanswered, and demeaning,
But if they're not, could never offer thanks,
Can feel the horrors we have created just beneath our skin;
Writhing, contorting, causing trembles in our hands,
Over nothing so petty as what some god claims is sin,
And won't be washed clean by the hourglass's sands.
I am strongly convinced that, even if I can
(By some miracle), be absolved by God's forgiveness,
That He has absolutely no **** right to do this,
To steal that from me, and to change what I am.
Jan 5, 2017
Jan 5, 2017 at 4:50 PM UTC
They asked us to think of the person we respected the most in our lives.
Once we had that person in our thoughts they continued,
"Now, write a letter to them coming out"
My throat hitched and I felt my chin start to quiver,
One kid called out, "But I'm not gay?"
That isn't the point of the exercise, Michael.
My mother always told me when I cried my chin looked like a walnut because of the way I scrunched it up in attempt to keep from sobbing.
And in that moment I knew my chin was contorting into a nut and my eyes began to burn,
Because am I?
The constant names and ridicule, "You're a **** *you're a **** **you're a **** spit at me like venom after I donated my hair,
The family jokes of, "So you have a boyfriend yet?"
No.
"A girlfriend then?"
The countless times I have walked downstairs in the morning only to hear my mother say, "You look like a lesbian" and laugh because I didn't feel like putting on makeup that day.
I had spent my entire high school career terrified of the thought of being gay.
But so what?
What if I am?
Why does it feel like being gay is wrong?
The word "gay" is used as an insult time and time again.
If you're not straight then you're not normal.
Normal?
We have to crush this assumption that heterosexuality is a must, that it's the norm.
The LGBTQ community needs you.
We need acceptance.
Someone should not feel threatened due to their sexuality.
That exercise, of writing a letter to your idol coming out, shouldn't even need to exist.
Coming out shouldn't be so scary, so difficult.
We need to learn and to accept one another.
We can't place such negative connotations about being gay, or trans, or pan, or bi, or anything but straight and cis into the youths head,
because then they end up terrified and confused,
just as I was.
Please,
We need to save these kids.
Feb 2, 2017
Feb 2, 2017 at 10:38 AM UTC
Silently standing in formation as your feet are hanging overboard
A burial at sea is an honor and now it is your much deserved reward.
USS. Ships slowly coming to a halt many nautical miles off the coast
Today is a beautiful day and you’re the decorated remembered host.
As for him, when his ship rolled up upon Saigon's shore
he received many campaign stars for his chest while serving his tour.
Clanging medals as he still now walks all about and right from the start
He told me he was to fast to get caught and in return,
he smiled at me because he never did receive a purple heart.
The stars and stripes are now starting to swirl into one and another
contorting colors now begin to weep while flying at half-mast
Squeezing triggers the firing party’s rifle’s now begin to blast.
As you’re lying there peacefully and in your "Aurora" stainless steel bed
A special scripture is read and prayers are then said.
Tilting the platform so you slide off and fall into the deep ocean
with twenty holes two inch in diameter
and one hundred and fifty pound bags of sand hidden at your feet
when you get to the bottom, Davy Jones, you will then meet
till then you’re heading to the floor traveling there
like always, in slow motion.
(SirCARSr. 11-30-13)
Nov 30, 2013
Nov 30, 2013 at 11:51 AM UTC
I see you
You lurk beneath the skin
Razor teeth shining through otherwise empty words
I see you in the malice
In the anger and confusion
Contorting the human mask you wear
I see you in the hatred
Growing stronger
As together you learn to hate yourself
Each passing moment you are brighter
Your host duller
Although you hide it well
And I am afraid
Afraid that one day
I will see you
And you see me
In a mirrors reflection
That one day you will ravage my mind
Tear away all knowledge and perception
That I endear
As I burn my loved ones
With your bitter tongue
And slowly forget them entirely
Until I become you
And then can no longer see you
As now i have seen you
Take another's skin
Remove him from his family
Take his pride, his mind
His love for all
And isolate us
In our islands of fear
Frozen, we can do nothing at all
I realise that there is no happy ending
There is no way back now
I always thought there were second chances
But he is leaving us, painful piece by piece
So fast, yet slow
It's unbearable
For now I have seen you
And I can never forget
The look in your eyes
The words you've said
I see the void
I see living death
And at least for now
You cannot see me yet
Aug 11, 2015
Aug 11, 2015 at 7:36 PM UTC
sometimes i seriously doubt
if i will ever recover
from this loss,
this bruise
from losing you.
sometimes i wake up in the middle of the night
to sweat soaked sheets and mascara-drenched pillow cases,
curled up in full fetal-position
and i think about you
and how i'm lucky that i even accomplish falling sleep
at all.
i think that's just the difference between the body and the mind -
the body won't stop contorting itself to match your
dissected heart
just because you did or did not decide to say
goodbye to someone.
and this is why i woke up with a knots like stones
inside of my back,
practically paralyzed
it's like my body is trying to punish me
for going against its
ferocious nature. all it wants
is to be back inside you.
sometimes i seriously doubt
if i will ever recover
from this loss,
this bruise
from losing you.
broken has made a cold home out of me.
Jun 10, 2013
Jun 10, 2013 at 2:17 PM UTC
A BLACK DEVILS TONGUE ROLLS OUT BEFORE ME
HISSING, LICKING, FLAMING & SPITTING
I'M ON THE RUN FROM THE DEMON INSIDE ME
GRINDING WINDING CHURNING AND BURNING
A SCREAMING BULLET TEARS FROM HELLS OWN KEEP
THUNDER QUAKES OF LAUGHTER FROM THE BELLY OF THE BEAST
A BLACK DEVILS TONGUE ROLLS OUT BEFORE ME
HISSING, LICKING, FLAMING & SPITTING
I'M ON THE RUN FROM THE EVIL INSIDE ME
GRINDING WINDING CHURNING AND BURNING
A STREAK OF LIGHTNING BOLT BLISTERING THE EARTH
TREMBLING AND SHAKING LOOSE OF HELLS OWN HEARTH
MUSCULAR SKELETAL CONTORTING
BODY BRACED IS FORCING
SPITTIN SPARKS GRINDIN' WHEELS
KICKIN' FAST AT THE DEVIL'S HEELS
FLIRTING WITH PSYCHOSIS
THIS MADNESS TAKES 'A' HOLD
I'M DRIPPIN' SWEAT
GRIPPIN A SPINNIN' WHEEL
GRINDIN' SPARKS AT THE DEVIL'S HEELS
I'M DRIPPIN' WET
MINDS BLEEDING
THIS MADNESS TAKES A HOLD
I'M GRIPPIN' HARD
ON A SPINNIN' WHEEL
KNUCKLES WHITE ICY COLD
I'M GRIPPIN' WET
MINDS BLEEDING
THIS MADNESS TAKES MY SOUL
I'M DRIPPIN' SWEAT
GRIPPIN' A SPINNIN' WHEEL
SPITTIN' SPARKS
ON THE DEVIL'S HEELS
I'M DRIPPIN' SWEAT
MINDS BLEEDING
THIS MADNESS TAKES A HOLD
I'M DRIPPIN' SWEAT
GRIPPIN' A SPINNIN' WHEEL
WAITIN' FOR THE DEATH KNELL PEEL
A BLACK DEVILS TONGUE ROLLS OUT BEFORE ME
HISSING, LICKING, FLAMING & SPITTING
I'M ON THE RUN FROM THE DEMON INSIDE ME
GRINDING WINDING CHURNING AND BURNING
A SCREAMING BULLET TEARS FROM HELLS OWN KEEP
THUNDER QUAKES OF LAUGHTER FROM THE BELLY OF THE BEAST
A BLACK DEVILS TONGUE ROLLS OUT BEFORE ME
HISSING, LICKING, FLAMING & SPITTING
I'M ON THE RUN FROM THE EVIL INSIDE ME
GRINDING WINDING CHURNING AND BURNING
THIS RUPTURED CHASM ERUPTS SPLINTERING THE HEAP
WILDFIRE SPITTING FROM INFERNAL DEEP
MUSCULAR SKELETAL CONTORTING
BODY BRACED IS FORCING
SPITTIN SPARKS GRINDIN' WHEELS
KICKIN' FAST AT THE DEVIL'S HEELS
FLIRTING WITH PSYCHOSIS
THIS MADNESS TAKES 'A' HOLD
I'M DRIPPIN' SWEAT
GRIPPIN A SPINNIN' WHEEL
GRINDIN' SPARKS AT THE DEVIL'S HEELS
I'M DRIPPIN' WET
MINDS BLEEDING
THIS MADNESS TAKES A HOLD
I'M GRIPPIN' HARD
ON A SPINNIN' WHEEL
KNUCKLES WHITE ICY COLD
I'M GRIPPIN' WET
MINDS BLEEDING
THIS MADNESS TAKES MY SOUL
I'M DRIPPIN' SWEAT
GRIPPIN' A SPINNIN' WHEEL
SPITTIN' SPARKS
ON THE DEVIL'S HEELS
I'M DRIPPIN' SWEAT
MINDS BLEEDING
THIS MADNESS TAKES A HOLD
I'M DRIPPIN' SWEAT
GRIPPIN' A SPINNIN' WHEEL
WAITIN' FOR THE DEATH KNELL PEEL
THESE DARK WINGS
SPREAD OVER MY HORIZON
REIGN IN EVIL
REIGN IN FREEDOM
REIGN IN HELL
THESE RIVERS RUN WITH BLOOD
FLOWING TO THE FLOOD
THESE RIVERS RUN WITH BLOOD
FLOWING TO THE FLOOD
FROM THE GNASHING TEETH OF THE JAWS OF HELL
RASPING GASPING SEETHING AND BREATHING
MOVING FASTER THAN THE TOLL OF THAT FATEFUL BELL
WREAK CRAKE SHREIKS AND SHAKES THE HEATH
WINDIN' DOWN THAT STEEP SLIDE
SLIPPERY SLOPE
LANDSCAPE
RACING
THROUGH
MY
MIND
WINDIN' DOWN THAT SLIPPERY SLOPE
LANDSLIDE
RACING
THROUGH
MY
MIND
WINDIN' DOWN THAT STEEP SIDE
SLIPPERY SLOPE
BLACK TRACKS
RACING
THROUGH
MY
MIND
Apr 24, 2021
Apr 24, 2021 at 8:19 AM UTC
he is sharp angles
bony elbows
knobby knees
and ribs protruding fiercely from
worn-thin
shirts.
honey blonde locks
plastered against his skull
and sweat
beads on a
translucent
brow.
he braces for the
pain
nails growing
teeth sharpening
body contorting
flesh ripping away from bones.
thick ropey scars criss-cross
over his back
and you could swear
those were
bite marks
along his spine.
he will shake and shudder
teeth clenched
eyes shut tight
against the horrors
but no matter what you ask
he will not answer.
a worn sweater hangs loose
around narrow shoulders
and dark
circles stand out
starkly
against porcelain cheeks.
when the full moon comes
in all it’s horrific glory
he will touch
your cheek
and send you away
with a sigh.
wine-red blood seeps
from claw marks
on a slender limb
and he kisses your worries
away
even as he weeps.
May 7, 2014
May 7, 2014 at 9:47 PM UTC
I walk tonight.
The sky casts no light.
The lack of shadows hides my solitude.
My dormant heart beats alone.
Awaiting to be heard.
Longing to be held.
By the one so wrongfully taken for granted.
The only one that truly cares,
If it beats at all.
This heart beats for you.
These tears fall for you.
These feet walk for you…
A gleaming light flickers in the distance.
Lightening is strewn across the horizon.
Such power given by gods to move mountains with profound toxicity.
A power given to slay the inexhaustible flame I hold deep within.
I have been stricken down.
By this hand of fate.
What you call an obstacle,
I see a labyrinth.
Twisting and contorting with layers unreachable by the most straining efforts.
To be wandered for eternity,
These walls hold me in captivity.
Adjacent lies the potent moon.
Tearing a lucid hole in the darkness,
Light pours in.
Thrown to my knees by the fiery fervor that drips so elegantly.
Diminutive under these chains of misery,
I look up.
And cry out!
But I am not heard…
I am not seen…
I am forgotten.
And so…
Once again,
The moon has fallen…
Left in darkness.
No shadow for company.
I hunger.
For another day.
Another chance.
To prove myself worthy.
So that some day,
I can again feel your supple skin beneath my fingertips.
Taste your succulent lips.
And embrace you for what you are worth.
Love,
andypandypood'npie
Jan 19, 2010
Jan 19, 2010 at 4:28 PM UTC
the Lotto
I bought a Lotto ticket
on the day my child was born
After months of
hope and trepidation
research and preparation
practice and anticipation
dreams and realization
After hours of labor
intense and slow
expanding
contorting
pushing
blowing
crying
My wife gave birth
our child
our life
our future
our union
After days of rest
we went home
and down the road
that he would lead
After days I checked
the numbers
on the ticket
and they matched
the bundle in my arms
Feb 1, 2010
Feb 1, 2010 at 7:43 PM UTC
It is far too long
since I’ve tasted lust
and passion.
Let me breathe
your curves and
taste your thighs.
Softly
then sharply.
Remind my lips
of the sweetness of
Your sweat.
As we lay
together
vulnerable and
honest.
Our bodies
contorting in
ecstasy.
Euphoric and
connected.
I’ll whisper
secrets
in your ears
and you’ll
trust me
with your tongue.
Let’s forget
our names
and exist
forever
in that moment.
Paint
my back
with your
scratches.
Tease out
the blood
with your nails.
Let my lips
draw a masterpiece.
Let my words
compose
a song
and we’ll
end
together
breathless
intoxicated
delirious
in
a
final
violent
crescendo.
May 19, 2019
May 19, 2019 at 10:06 AM UTC