to finalise it,
my fingers shake.
i knew i was something
where humans kiss
and do not....
never again shall i resemble everything..
the rapid inconsequence of no words wears my skin.
i imagine you can see my skull by now
and i move with stories of flowers found headless.
I'm clairvoyant to your billionaire lips
the hoax is your tongue
against my starfish lifelines
you burn me with moonbeams
you're a swindler, a lord
chalk fresh and glitter warmth
I'm the fumbling rebel
the fizz when the rain
falls against my heated flesh...
He tipped me his tailored tongue
gratified my mind with eloquent faltering
the street light charmed his frame
and dusted my eyes with warmth
his vantage point lulled my prudence
I imagined he could pull me inside out
with those extravagant fingers
his aura 'vintage and...
they say the earth heals.
but this is only for the beloved.
i, in this gravel bed with raining hair; let me sleep.
if i am so awful, allow me one equinox
and send the dark to hush me.
days and nights and cryings are no longer sacred.
they are burdens they are lepers...
I kiss the mist &
listen for that highway hiss
while snorting a portal
to the chortle loose
& whoring to a dooring
where karmic floorings
rise suboxone skies.
All I need is a breed
in cement & resent
the weekend after the amber
of the fourth of July:
a net worth whet works...
there is no heaven.
just the earth
who will wring
her longing neck
to take one last look
at where your hands,
in nebulous promise, held
an imperfect me.
i'd really love to kiss the thing you are
i cannot stop from watching, or from flailing.
girl before and after, but i was a girl.
somewhere down, in, there, she suicided,
most likely from your fingers,
and she probably made that sound i stutter soft
to close your eyes.
"i bare the loss of it"
the brightest thing in the sky is beautifully dead.
i nightwatch for a most needed resurrection.
i found you extraordinarily ferocious
and i uncovered, the white skin of being a girl,
so warm, so hot, and the moon
made me look like i might....
the only thing i ever loved about summer
was the stillness before the storms.
the white chairs in the prairie grass
held iron flowers and brown gardens
and a few spider songs.
and i watched the girls that never sweat at all
stick out their tongues at grown men, and if you...
a girl trembling with nothing left.
i need to annihilate her,
know the ending on my tongue.
make her behave.
seems so impoverished with fever that it closes my eyes;
my stars align like good little girls
giggling about the blood of everything
they are about to...
ex and cruciate.
do not write these things.
kiss the disfigurement that cowers me.
bound to watch you through my fingers, ten once beautiful prayers to count on.
when i prayed.
look at the mess.
when a girl loses, i think this is? Blood?Faith?
taped to the ceiling, then, is her...
a conspiracy of three-winged moths.
this indistinguishable figure still loving and these felt fingers
feeling everything: the pink dead drizzle of want, the drop of grey
life barely gasping, the malformed moons and moans,
and the silent roam of rock creatures, the ones who cannot...
through the cage, i've caked
on my soul for eating; your prayers
sky themselves:: mine
unearth black moons.
suffer then the soft soil,
the lithograph girl on my bed
and the box child, the heart-held.
and this is where...
broadsword whistles by -
king or fool
from once he stood
on ceremony -
a veil, or slice
through open neck...
the toning dark,
the graining head...
spoke in smoke
to the lucky bloke...
a powerless high,
& born to leaking
You must have thought
I had a paper heart.
You took a lighter
& ignited the flame
with cruel thumb.
You pointed that flame
With your paper-tiger scorn.
You didn't realise
I would never burn
the girl in me cries.
to deepest sleep
with your soft mouth
for a pillow and bleed from me
the art of all the red daisies...
..this warm belly slow
burns and i arise torn
from the flood; noah's girl
threatening to fling herself.
does the center of your gravity float...
skin and bones, we smile.
what dragons are to be vanquished in a sin not so.
but sewn into the fabric like dutiful maidens.
......and when i open the books,
love letters are sure to fall out and onto your lap.
we were never built for this, this dwindling.
... .... .....
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