we are the raging portrait of lust, tangled in a mess of sensation, kaleidoscope of color and melodies of sanction--
we hum with ancient urges and vibrations.

fingers and hard planes, bodies like constellations, lips that are stained in stardust--
flying comets, gravity is our force.
we can't deny physics, we can't change our course.

worship, cherish, release. over and over. til i hear nothing but your name emanating from my throat, enthralled.

darling, love is luminescent
and we are its very stars.

I am my fathers daughter.
I know this because he tells me every time he's drunk or every time I'm drunk
I think it started when my mother left
skipped town with the preacher
left me shaking in the bathroom holding my knees like a bad taste in my mouth
this is family
this is coming home or the lack of coming back
this is making toast for your mom when she's had too much wine and somehow ends up where it all began, in the apartment that was once hers but has since switched ownership
this house is not a home
without a mother
this house is not a home without the fathers daughter
we become glue for those who cannot become sober
we become wall, ball and chain, we become our fathers at such a young age we forget how to be anything besides drunk