"firecracker" poems
It's elementary, my dear
This bittersweet affection that I feel
From one boy to the next I grew
Ladder rungs of broken hearts
First grade
Blonde hair and disarming smile
Recess games and hallway passes
A note in a diary and minutes spent giggling
Never talking, always watching
Fourth grade
Glasses frame of brown hair and thin shoulders
Curious enigma to come and go
A bit more literate diary entrees
One year of crossed legs and shy smiles
Fifth grade
A growing tree of lean muscle and blue eyes
Short brown hair and a charming grin
Side by side on a rubber track
Gray skies and sweet goodbyes
A bright dance floor and a shattered heart
Miserable nights and heartbreak songs
Seventh grade
Long dark hair and chocolate eyes
This spring has brought a strange surprise
Wiry muscle and soft cheeks
Once admired, then adored
An ongoing thrum of sweet affection
Sidelong glances and gym class stares
New discoveries and quiet realization
Girl can love girl
Tenth grade
A firecracker packed with mysterious boys
And an enigmatic girl
A bomb in the summer sky
Spelling new names, new faces, new hearts
A whisper of 'I love you' at long last returned
Names carved on my ribs and pulling my lips
A tightened chest never felt so good
Sep 11, 2014
Sep 11, 2014 at 9:53 PM UTC
1.
He lights another mortar
and the dog runs after it
barking and trying to bite it
he grabs it's back leg as the sky lights up
since he had barely thought to look over
and the words around here don't reach his mind
his ears defective as they are.
He says something with his hands
something foreign to me
but six people watching laugh
and so do I.
2.
His wife sits with her sons
her stomach wide with their third
another boy
she's gotten so used to talking with her hands
that her voice is rusty
and her vocabulary limited
but she's here as much as the rest
sitting and laughing and having a good time.
3.
The owner of the house sits off the side in the nicest lawn chair here
a cup in her hand
we've quit counting how many drinks she's had
but she only drinks a couple days a year
and nobody is giving her any problems
and she seems to be able to be her normal self.
She had been questioning me earlier today
seeing if I was really a good guy
testing whether she'd have to sit at the table with a shotgun
every time I spent any time with her niece.
4.
Her husband is launching his own collection of mortars off
with his brother
while her brother-in-law hands the teens the novelties
I launch off a dozen flowers
and a few spinny things.
She occasionally breaks her fingers away from mine
to launch off a flower, smokebomb or firecracker
and occasionally runs over to poke-chop her uncle
who keeps talking to the fireworks.
She always comes back and we'll wander by her mom and stepdad
(the latter always throws in some sort of comment
so we act careful around him)
and over to her cousins
or toward her aunt and roommate.
Occasionally we'll have to get something from the house
and we sneak three kisses
but we mostly just stay in each others arms
keeping each other warm in the almost warm 4th of July night
our hands both entwined
one of our heads always on the others shoulder
and in all the craziness
all the family drama
everything is perfect and she's smiling so hard her cheeks keep hurting
and she keeps telling me how little sleep she's gonna get
and I tell her I ain't gonna be able to sleep at all
Jul 7, 2013
Jul 7, 2013 at 4:21 AM UTC
they say you're terrifying scorpio
I think you're stagnant
and not in the mouldy water way
you're a mountain
always there
looming above
they say you're intense scorpio
and i know you love intensely
and hate intensely
and find nothing in between
you're ongoing
and everything
pulling the world towards you
you're not mine scorpio
and I don't know if I want you to be
but I think we'd work
born with the moon in scorpio I was
and i'm a little bit you
and i'm not sure if it's that
or that i'm a little bit not you
that makes this a fire *******
You're definitely a fire scorpio
even though they say you're water
I'm an air sign
even though I know i'm earth
I guess in another world you'd set fire to me
but in this world I'm only rippling your surface
bubbling up to the top of you
and you can't bother to set me alight
it's okay though
we're a firecracker either way
Apr 30, 2015
Apr 30, 2015 at 4:40 AM UTC
Peach salsa
Has that tangy taste
Between sweet and spicy
Burning tongues naughtily but nicely.
Peach salsa
Is the quiet librarian of dips
Unassuming until the bun comes undone
And blink of an eye she’s a firecracker in bed.
Peach salsa
Tastes a lot like you
And our Sunday afternoons
Experiments with papaya and pineapples
Tossed in with tomatoes and crying onions
The perfect recipe for a little change and a lot of disaster.
Sep 18, 2013
Sep 18, 2013 at 2:32 PM UTC
Ballerina stance leaner
porcelain poised demeanor
lined up for a chance at that old 500 gram repeater.
Yeah, a little firecracker,
a little fire eater.
Twiggy figure, ****** fire dome where her little wires teeter.
Excellent muse material
my ***** optics viewed ethereal
Beauty, and she knew it.
Arrogance.
Noted, duly.
Pittsburgh's resident fire ant, with a grace to match her face
And a whole crew of troglodytes racing to get a taste
So thanks Angela Chase;
I prefer the fantasy too.
And thanks to you my chickens won't be sleeping easy in their coup.
Loop Jabberwocky with Calligraphy
and dabbled in polygamy. purpose:
****** cyst bubbles to the surface.
Misinterpret the tongue touching and hand clutching,
you were baby girlie thumb-sucking
But thought more than twice about it when it came to dumb-fucking.
Pretty face: check
Depression: not yet
Appreciating phonemes, but still a nervous wreck
false carrot tops to bed, awkward with the ***** work.
Near waif redhead. Pittsburgh Boys. the city lurks
It's been a minute since the girl scouts got at me, I bought it.
Hop in the DeLorean tell Lauren that I'm off it.
Mar 16, 2010
Mar 16, 2010 at 2:47 PM UTC
My kryptonite?
That's a good question. I'm no superhero, no, my limbs too fragile for any crime fighting, any dark lighting of the night, I can't be a Batgirl.
But everyone still has a kryptonite.
I jokingly tell people ice cream, or inappropriate musicals, or turtles, or writing. Writing is a good one. I will do a lot for the sake of the written word.
But that's not what truly gets to me, what breaks me down every time.
Change and love.
Changing love.
It begins as perfection, as bliss on a stick, like a Firecracker Popsicle, delicious until you get to the part you don't like, or, when you get to the end. All you have left is this disgusting flavor in your mouth or the taste of bark, and neither is pleasant.
Everything ends.
That's what kills me. That is my kryptonite. Endings.
In so many facets, this thing kills me. They are my favorite part of every story, but my least favorite part of my life. They are what I spend the most time constructing in a paper, but they are the thing I avoid the most in reality.
I have been taught, in my life, that everyone will leave. There's abandonment sewn into my heart that I'm not sure can ever be erased because, unfortunately for me, its always been true. Almost everyone has left me, and I can't help but assume the rest will leave too, until I am alone.
That's what I love about writing. When you write, there's characters, a new world, a new life. You're never alone, and you're never yourself. When you despise who you are so much, its a dream to try on a different coat and live another life, even if its for only a few minutes.
Another flaw of mine; getting off track. We began on kryptonite, and then I turned it into a tale about the wonders of writing. Typical Grace, distracted about words. Words, words, words, but are they real?
They're real to me, so I guess that's all that matters.
I guess it all circles back to my original kryptonite. Love.
I love too much and get hurt too easily. Its the struggle of my disorder and the folly of my far too large heart, far too large for my little body. Sometimes I wonder if my entire body is one larger, misshapen heart ***** I fully realize the heart is not where emotion comes from, but I'm certainly not all brain. Heart is the only ***** that makes sense. so strong, so vital, but so breakable.
Maybe that's why they call it falling in love, because even Superman can't fly away from it.
Its kryptonite.
Dec 7, 2014
Dec 7, 2014 at 3:59 PM UTC
Marissa Ann was a firecracker of a little girl.
For her, there was no fence too tall to climb, no bully too mean to face, no street too busy to cross.
She was all tangled hair and toothy grins.
And she'd yank the book right out of my hands and say, "Gabrielle, we have more important things to do than read."
In the jungle of our lives, Marissa was a lioness, queen of the pride.
I was a mouse not indigenous to these parts of the second grade.
The world was a terrifying place, and I had no problem cowering in the corner, knee-deep in a pile of Nancy Drew.
I tried to stay huddled behind my words, drowning in the ink, attempting to let the pages be my armor.
Marissa would not let me.
When I allowed bookshelves to be my shields, she came guns blazing, and kicked them all down, then stood me back up on my feet.
She'd grab my hand and pull me head first toward adventure.
Marissa was tough, and everyone knew it.
There was not a soul alive brave enough to pick on Marissa Ann.
But me? I was an easy target.
The other girls said I was "weird" with my enormous wire frames resting atop full cheeks, and my frayed jeans, a glowing reminder of my mother's lack of wealth.
I heard the whispers on the playground about the chubby girl who read, (can you believe it?), chapter books.
Brianna was a demon of a child.
She'd bat her pretty little eyelashes and everyone would melt.
She had the entire second grade class wrapped around her tiny little finger.
She'd corner me on the soccer field and do everything she could to remind me that I was different.
But one day at recess, she was nowhere to be found, until I made my way through winding halls, back to the warmth of our classroom.
There sat Marissa with a devilish glint in her eye, waving me over to sit in the desk beside her.
Behind us, a sniffling Brianna, looking forlornly at the teardrop stains on her pink lace skirt, her mouth pulled tight into a perfect straight line.
I looked back at Marissa with a curious glance, then intertwined her hand with my own.
The sound of stifled sobs behind us and the warmth of her skin on mine sealing an unspoken vow between two girls with puzzle piece fingertips that only fit each other.
Mar 11, 2014
Mar 11, 2014 at 2:21 AM UTC
Daisies in hair, freckles in laugh,
Summer camp dandelions,
Bubbles in the air.
Cling like a koala to your back
So I can fight off the pirates
And the dinosaurs
And the giant squid
And my mother's meatloaf.
Where do teachers go at night?
Do they sleep in their classrooms?
This caterpillar is my new best friend.
But so is this firefly. But not that moth.
Roll down hill into mud puddles of chocolate goo.
Sing songs and jump on clouds like trampolines.
Mouth like an innocent firecracker; 3-2-1 blast off.
Kissed and tucked and loved into bed.
Dreaming of how good we're going to have it,
Not knowing that we already did.
Jul 17, 2013
Jul 17, 2013 at 5:25 PM UTC
you're drinking, and then you can't control
the reaction upon entering the tetragrammaton...
one h is for hushed up laughter, for sighs (ah),
and then the alter deja vu
is a cocktail of:
ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha
ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha
ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha
ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha
ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha
ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha
ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha
ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha
ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha
ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha,
yeah, so many, so you can look at it rather than
say it... it's a sunny day, go out and play
or something... leave me with the anchor of ****
humanity dragging us down, or simply basing us
in the underwater fudge of mud to a standstill...
it's sunny, go out and play, ride a bicycle or something...
you know, living 20 odd years in an english society
i never had an english girlfriend, i'm told she's a real
firecracker fortune-cookie... my hands are cold,
i swear by the oath of the old Bailey i never touched
her thighs... scouts' honour, cross my fingers
and wear woman's underwear with a bowler hat
to match my serious demeanour...
yep, an Abbey Road's standstill... a fifth beetle
chatting cheeky chat chat of a chirp...
gurgles of fizz in carbonated wine known as champagne,
well that's me... or as the roadrunner said to
speedy Gonzales... hark a sayonara when changing
the gears to a 100m sprint world record.
the Mayan disease? ah right... excess spontaneous
laughter, unstoppable like a tide;
got chatting to a ms. khan... Genghis' great great...
great great great great great... great great granddaughter...
a doctor from pakistan... nice english accent
gets you all the pleasantries so everything can
go to hell... the sleeping pills prescription is waiting...
now the sick-note... so i don't crash a plane
into the Swiss elevations by "accident"
while sitting on an arm-chair of nails while everyone
else is farting into cushions.
honest to god, the tetragrammaton is like a brick
wall for vowels, you hit the ball against the four
walls, and the vowels are either ****** up
or they extract the consonant stability of the four letters,
and your safest bet to express them is
to laugh;
well, i do call it a Mayan disease... because
my stomach is aching from building a six-pack with
the giggles.
Apr 5, 2016
Apr 5, 2016 at 7:40 AM UTC
Next time I act like a heartbroken Holmes,
do me a favor and let me drink it away.
Words hurt what whiskey soothes.
I catch your name drifting away on a nimbus,
past the trees of someone else’s hometown.
Your eyes are bean sprouts and your scent
is divorce. Your fingers are still placid,
not yet ****** from the scratch of anxiety.
Eyebrows bow to nose bone in speculative uncertainty,
confusing rainy prom nights with dreams of Hercules.
One more sip of wine will detonate firecracker cheeks.
I hold your hand in secret on desolate city streets,
remembering the practice of lost lovers and
drunk ******* in dead friend’s beds and falling down staircases
in mid-afternoon moonshine. Our pasts intertwine, just as
West-coast tourist traps fill family photo albums.
Oct 29, 2011
Oct 29, 2011 at 7:44 PM UTC
...
And this palpating heart beats so
quickly for the thirst oh
the thirst for life in its purest and impurest forms
to run quickly through in glittering veins oh
let it find the music to drown in the vibrating rhythms of the earth,
and let it experience
the surge of a beautiful madness in heart
a first past midnight kiss upon a moving train
or shared ringing laughters of a cluster upon a mountain top
with its twinkle of a foreign city lights as if pausing to say
yes, this night, this city is yours, and so is the world-
no matter
it wants to drink it all
in hurried golden gulps for it ignites the colored sparks
illumination in the fire-aired sky
for celebration of us;
of the gift of youth and age because our seconds are only receding and
it is only here and now
so when you take one sip you cannot help
but savor and
embrace it whole again and again and
take all of it
in its whole glorious madness
P.K.
Nov 2, 2014
Nov 2, 2014 at 1:23 AM UTC
He craved a father like a burnout
licking his sugarcane eyes &
slapping them on
any surface they'd stick &
he called night The Kingdom
would wander off for ages
said *I don't need to know
where I'm goin'*
said *Someday I'll have already
found it* & maybe he's right
*All people die a little
more in daylight*
he was 16
a dry firecracker
one spark away
from infinite eruption
Aug 26, 2014
Aug 26, 2014 at 2:03 AM UTC
Remember when you were just a kid
How you would sit on the beach for hours
Waiting for the Sun to finally set
Sleep on the beach
Because you were tired from the day
Remember how you would get chased
By the girls at your Elementary school
Hahah you had good times
Till you found out and could really understand
That the woman who lived in your house
Who always sent you off to school
Who kissed you good night
Who told you she loved you
Remember how you felt
How you grew so angry
Because the truth was that this woman
Wasn't your real biological mother
Your real one abandoned you
She left you at 13 months old
Left in the middle of the day
In ***** soiled diapers
She would pass out from the alcohol
Crash from the high
That the drugs gave her
Leaving you hungry for hours
Waking up when your father came home
Or her drug dealer wanted something in return
Just because she didn't have the money
Remember all of those things
Remember when you met her for the first time
She asked your stepmom
"Who is that? Is that Jr?"
Yeah it was you
Grown up and matured
Remember the thought that passed through your mind
How can she not know who the **** you are
Remember how angry you were
See I know all of this because
Well simply put I am you
I am 17 years of age
I want you to remember the way you were
Because with age comes wisdom
And I have been privelaged enough
To have a good sense of observation
I have become very wise
Well we have become very wise
See I miss those times
When we would ride our skateboard
Or try to blow things up with a firecracker
Hahaha remember those times
Look I don't know if you remember all of this
But if you ever get a chance to read this
Know that I hate us
I hate all of the darkness
I hate every poem I write
I hate everything I think about
Simply because the darkness is towards her
The poems are written for nobody but somebody
And the things I think about
Keep me up well into the late hours of the day
Robert
I hope you get a chance to read this
Because this poem may be the last
You may never get a chance to read this
Because I hate the fact that I have so much pain
So much of useless emotions
And I am tired of dying within words
Written on a piece of paper
I want to embrace death
So hopefully one day you will read this
Even if you come back in a different life
As somebody or somehing else
Just read at least one line of this
So the past doesn't repeat itself
I hope you can forgive me
Sincerly,
Robert Guerrero
Mar 6, 2013
Mar 6, 2013 at 4:20 PM UTC
I.
It was peppermint,
snowflake blonde hair spilling into gold
the foxlike amber of my skin
against her phosphorescent white.
She made me seasick with her bird-blue eyes
and stuck like cotton candy to my fingers.
II.
Her name was Phoenix,
and she scared me with her firecracker will.
It made my lungs into waterfalls
my thoughts and fingers, butterflies.
My carbon-copy hair carnelian red
a solar flare, an Icarus, an imitation star.
III.
We were virgins,
and volcanoes. Sharing milkbox wishes
on rooftops and climbing trees like horses
instead of tiger-mouthed boys.
We swallowed the citrus-colored summer
like gingerbread and lemonade.
Mar 22, 2013
Mar 22, 2013 at 9:54 AM UTC
I remember climbing out my window,
skulking off into a violent blizzard.
Lost in teenage anguish,
my feet carried me forward through the storm.
Two a.m. and a mile I out I realize,
I'm walking towards her house
Panic slammed my body like a tidal wave,
my nerves vibrated,
shaking the bitter cold.
I carried on determined.
No plan of action,
just full of **** and vigor and something...
Something I hadn't yet known.
The walk up her street is done with tremendous effort,
like swimming in jello.
Standing outside her house,
I'm suddenly aware of another obstacle.
I don't have a cell-phone.
Which window is her room?
Assuming it's upstairs, this is fifty - fifty you sonofabitch.
Take the risk.
I throw a small stone but hear it explode like a firecracker on the window.
Silence.
I reach for another when a soft voice calls my name.
We stand in the street and talk for a while,
holding one another.
I'm sorry, I can't stay, they probably know I'm gone.
I just... I just wanted to say goodbye
I walked backwards the whole way down the street.
Streetlights and snowfall created an amber aura around her.
That,
was the first time I knew what love was.
Sometimes I think it was the last time, too.
Apr 24, 2015
Apr 24, 2015 at 10:59 PM UTC
Do not stretch your fingers in my direction;
I am not your ******* or your heroine;
I am no drug to be addicted to.
My body is bruised and I am bent out of shape;
My ankles are all ninety degree angles;
And my knuckles are caked in golden hues.
The callouses on my heels are peeling;
And your spitfire attitude is exhausting.
"Simmer down, firecracker;
You lionhearted girl."
I'm flying at the speed of light;
I am going to crash, a beaten down piñata;
And nobody will pick up the pieces.
Simmer down, firecracker.
I'll simmer down when I'm dead.
(a.m.c.)
May 4, 2014
May 4, 2014 at 12:17 AM UTC
Was the heat that melted to the seat
She stood out in the lawn
A cigarette hangs from her lips
As she pins clothes to the line
Hot devil heat
Firecracker town
Downtown
Not too hot for coffee
Or the wide open window
The waitress wears her same Sunday dress
That girl has got to let go
Sugar cookie skin
Making smiles at the manager
Even when everyone
In their right mind is looking
It's a street or two to the sea
A ritualistic walk of black frying pan
Asphalt
Barefoot and broken
I climb to the end of the jetty
As the sun starts to set
If you were here this is where I would take you
On the edge of the sea
Where no one is looking
I would try to kiss you
Or hold your hand
But I know you would just laugh and say
"You're such a silly boy"
So I know better
So the sun sets
The stars come out with the moon
So beautiful on the sea
God **** its so beautiful!
I just wish you could see
Mar 4, 2012
Mar 4, 2012 at 2:53 PM UTC
Here I am again
wading through straw hats and jazz-
hailing the bartender,
spilling.
I’ve got last call to catch.
That firecracker with geraniums in her hair
is thirsty and wearing symptoms
of dance fever.
I’m doing a dance of my own,
holding my watery scotch over my head,
dodging sweaty shoulders.
I’ve almost made it back to Flower Girl
when I see a sight
that nearly jars the J&B; from my hand-
I see you.
You’re waiting by the jukebox
for Baseball Coach to retrieve
dos tequilas
and you’re happy.
Sep 26, 2011
Sep 26, 2011 at 1:59 PM UTC
SSSSSSSS!!
My heart was a firecracker
CRACKLE!!!
And you had lit my fuse
ZWINNGG!!!
Foolishly, I stepped too close to the sparks
KABOOM!!!
And then I was blown apart by your flame
Jul 31, 2015
Jul 31, 2015 at 1:56 AM UTC
In the midday of the solemn hour
I halfly drunk my life so sour
Spent myself in a cabin of madness
In an hourglass..
Which sadness dwells in my whole soul
Where it takes me to the hypocrite paradise
As a whole i drown myself in a liquid of my youth
Where the trees are bare to its growth
Everytime it happens it cuts my life of root
Vanish every moment where my life has sought
Vanish all the battles that i have fought..
It takes all the part in me
A precious stone made of my only heart
Turned into an iron with a ceaseless fire
Creating a storm inside of me
Burning all my history
Unfolding all the devious angle in me
Such as a grass that is worthless to the society
Making me helpless like a worm wiggling in a sandstorm
Turning into a golden winged butterfly
Which then turned out to be a worthless trash fly
Thats how worthless i could be
As i drunk this bottle of agony..
In the middle of the night where i lie deeply awake
Dreaming about how my nightmares turned into my faith
How could it be?
I ask only me
I blame only me
I grieve only me
I once change this crazy path which i have been thru
Thinking that all of those leaves of misery were untrue
But was it just deceiving my imagination?
Am i in my hallucination?
In my stupid illusion?
My own self betrayed a faith in me
Tell me, How can i trust anybody?
I ask the angel of misery what hath he done unto thee?
why am i suffering from such agony?
He answered me maybe i have lost the fortune of leaves within me
Maybe i have lost it as i drunk my hour left
Try to escape a lie which makes me defeated
I swear to you i did not deceive my sleep
Did not spill all the secrets i used to keep
I alone could only forbid myself in a bottle of madness
A bottle of grief and sadness which betrayed me
which used to be my friend but now turned unto my enemy!
The enemy that deceives me
An enemy that betrayed me
Build a hole in my soul and lost my sanity
I might have been sober that time
Might had not touched that ****** bottle of wine!
Might not commit such a stupid act
Might had realize the difference between a lie and a fact
But i am not!
There's a lot of doom which made me unlocked
The doors of forbidden curse!
Which made my living burst
Into like a firecracker in the sky
but only..
It brings my hundred smile to die..
Feb 21, 2015
Feb 21, 2015 at 8:46 PM UTC
Rocks know a lot more about time than clocks
Drive to the top of a mountain
Cinnamon gum
Noseblood
And rocks a lot older than clocks
Tell the older us we say hello
I am stuck between red rocks and a very hard place
Rockclimbing to rockbottom
I am a time hunter, rock hunter, pigeon hunter
(Let me tell you something about pigeon hunting:
Shooting clay pigeons isn’t as much fun when the pigeons aren’t clay
and their bodies shatter in midair like pomegranates in September
with red jewels sprinkling the sandstones
the sedimentary clouds and the fastfood signs)
Remember that time I tattooed the sky?
I wrote “time is a l.e.d. light” in a sacred heart
between the stars and the freckles and the ladybugs
none of their mothers were thrilled
Now I know time is a rock, a very heavy rock
A rock is a star, a star is a rock
And me? I am a rockstar
But I have all timers. Alzheimer's? No. ALL TIMERS
and a monolith growing on my sternum
Firecrackers. That’s what I wanted to talk about.
And when I say firecracker I mean fireworks
the way fire works his way between me, time and a rock
What is it with rocks?
Rock and roll
Rocked by doubt and rolled by time
Rock my world, please
Mar 23, 2016
Mar 23, 2016 at 11:45 AM UTC
He took my hand
And my heart skipped a beat.
Skadoosh
My world implode,
Never to be the same.
Kaboom
Now that he's gone,
How do I recover?
Bang
He was my firecracker,
My short-fused flame.
Jun 27, 2014
Jun 27, 2014 at 12:40 AM UTC
to
purple skies
late school nights
to
the tunnel under the bridge filled with our names
they painted over last week
to
heartbreak
and malt liquor
to
skinned knees
and ****** teeth
to
the lies we tell our parents
and sun burnt chest
to
Kid Cudi
and Kanye West
to
summer reading the bible
and a book about mythology
to
Jesus and Hera
their perfect harmony
to
green eyes
to
truth
to
shoegaze
to
bass
to
slick roads
too ****** to skate
to
spitting verse in the backseat
to
remembering family
to
rain and how it ruins everything
to
never letting your ex ruin everything
to
Sunday sun
and mosquito nights
puffy and swollen
and always multiplying
to
the concrete embedded in our cheeks
to
every firecracker
reminding us
that we're free
Sep 2, 2014
Sep 2, 2014 at 5:51 PM UTC
your hands are gospel, writing history
with your fingertips and whispering
prayers up and down my spine
i called you my ravenous wildebeest, and i
said it with a smile painting my lips, but
you are everything wild,
thorny, and carnivore.
you're gonna eat me up with texas-sized
teeth and leave me a carcass in the
desert. but i don't mind
i want to be bone for you,
bare.
i think that maybe your bigness is going
to consume me
until i'm a star-soaked black hole
set me on fire, douse me in gasoline
make all the blood rush to my head
because kid, you're a firecracker
and i've always been in love with explosion.
(a.m.c.)
Nov 4, 2015
Nov 4, 2015 at 3:51 PM UTC