why did i spin the globe like a bottle when i preferred it with you, a sea-salty salve to sore wounds you've managed to stitch close breaths into kisses come on a transatlantic breeze
in those screaming dreams our words are the confessions between bodies.
when i close my eyes the acuity of you is all that's left behind, a serenity between two jades, clearly fish out of rivers meant to be seen, pearlescent the first time you saw:
note: I did write this on the day of, but life has made it fairly impossible for me to be online in the last couple of days! This one is for 27/10.
telephone tag these days everything starts with these days because these days meander in the way that you do when the distance stretches, heart shaped silly putty strings never snapping a gummy line of telephone tag
i am a fortune teller anticipating dreams into incalescent waves salt wash cleansing old hurts; and the sting fades with your solidity a king's golden touch, brazen rends me molten an auric change arriving with the sunset
Cheat your landlord if you can and must, but do not try to shortchange the Muse. It cannot be done. You can’t fake quality any more than you can fake a good meal. — William S. Burroughs
