Atrophy For Lovers, Amorphy For Others.
Steal my breath at gunpoint,
CO2 for your finger-knit sack.
Pawn it off, pull it out
in lungfulls; (oxidized and in your eyes)
this breath's air is hardly fresh,
and there's no getaway car in sight.
Strip me down.
You spray paint my lips
(that "choking smile"-of-a-yellow)
and suddenly these plump skin-folds
can't be traced
-laced with you;
madeout in sandpaper and peeling paint,
I taste this silhouette,
sponge tongue on ripped lips
to find the salt in the shadow,
that salivating sweaty shade of truth.
I headbutt a bullet and this dream comes true.
