fuck, I am in some trouble again and no one blames me or is surprised, but I have laced my own tales down your crooked spine
with my poison darted fingernails, chemical correction tattooed and consumed. you like me in the gutter waiting for boots.
Lower like whores with red lips like ruby and a cigarette not a smile all the while, the little boys play out in the yard while we wickedly deliver
the very thing they ran around
the very thing they sniffed around
the very thing they pushed around
and we wouldn't have it any other way, face half-cocked and ready to shoot...give them all a reason to keep me in this prison.
Scratching at the wallpaper of this room like a bitch in heat, bitch ready to dial the number of the nearest delicatessen of aging baby dolls was once a brighter bulb, candle flickers in my womb.
I created super novas in this body, shed flesh and spirits from the spot you want to crawl into. I'm almost fucking crazy enough to shut you out if only your skin didn't make me look so pretty, almost tangible.
So you step back, so scared, so fit to fuck and tear limb for limb, and now I enter through adverbs and seeping pores to find the rotted peach core at the center of your universe,
juice running down my fingers when I bite into everything you've ever known to be true and spit in your face fallacy and deconstruction line after line until you are flat on your back, subterranean and choking on ditch dirt.
I was told she had the answers, but I had no questions. I, like you, always knew what I wanted.
The moonlight hit her dull as dust, Gray like a vault, But you it strikes silver And shivers.
Spin me to a stop amid the traffic and the crowds On the parkway tonight, arm entwined with mine, Golden petals spilling from the circumference of your hat, Heavy eyes, nectar lips, A satin breast pressed into my ribs.
The weight of the moon has kept me from The Parthenon and the Louvre and 100-story skyscrapers. I've missed my boat, I've missed my train, But you are the clinking chains of the anchor lifting, and not the anchor. You are the whistle and pant of an engine beyond the hills.
Walk with me across the fields, to the falls. Swim with me in the green pools. In this town no one doesn't know us, But across the fields only I will know The flesh of your shoulders rising above the water, The surface pulling at your silver skin, Your curls pressed straight and smooth against your scalp, Now laced with the grass and clover on the bank, The water from your arms dripping down my back like honey, Your eyes and mouth open to mine.
Walk with me barefoot beyond the hills, to the sunrise, Through the sunrise and the next silver night.