I know they say alcohol inhibits decision making,
but I knew before that long-island iced tea that I wanted you.
You have become so much a part of me
in so little time..
and now I am spending my time,
in a constant state of repulsion
I am completely nauseated,
Sick under a spell.
Spewing cliches and now I really, really
just need you.
Nothing can stop me from feeling the way your hand felt in mine.
Or how your lips, I could kiss until the end of time.
I know now that my imagination is the most talented impressionist artist.
I am so far away from you but somehow I see you clear,
So I try to push you out, but I could never do that to you.
But a mile is a mile,
and now matter how hard I try,
my love has become a full-time Contractor,
measuring the reality of rulers, mocking us,
and I am sorry that I don’t know how to make them stop.
the skin and talk—
faith is blind and I believe in eyes eye-locked.
In midnight moon and star-shine bright,
Lying still and still-life visions
swimming slow across the wet grass and growing moss.
Tailored to my body come,
come dressed in me,
come doused in rum.
Show me your’s and I’ll show you mine;
my biggest smile and love divine.
Discover the contents inside
my envelope skin, kept sealed
by saliva-licked lips,
a Love Letter stuck in my throat,
Written in blood-ink,
hoping to be effortless
hoping to express microcosmic abundance.
Soaked deep in Truth,
my teeth hook onto the words
that follow my shadow
and my shadow’s shadow—
a tale between now and all past Humanities:
I am everything, yet I am nothing.
On righteous days I am aware that both are equally
You don’t know yet that I will write about you one day.
But, still, I already have.
Reasons we need feminism:
Today I saw a girl in the gym putting on hairspray before she started her workout.
Spirituality is where light and sound meet body and soul.
Nature weeps an eternal story:
beautiful regeneration after decay.
It tells the tale of humanity,
in the most unabashed way.
Translation is held, laughing above,
A reefed night blooming with light
Like the child’s eye.
Or maybe a mastered kiss,
Like the setting sun.
Tell me a love story,
and tell it to me like you still believe
in something called “A Memory.”
Wealth is the disease,
Privilege, the symptom.