Warning: This work has been rated 16+ for language and mature content.
And I was bore up in the hole. The greek girl next to me had a small lace bralette wet and clear and steady and black. And i was there. and I remember it. It was a hole of water on the green of the creek. I shivered and bit at my teeth like buzzing and the sunwrinkled leaves peeled green and illuminated like the sun and bright. The divingboard indiscriminate from my teeth clattering. Whos was there on the phone i said? No one, she said. I tried not put my head under because i remember what that show taught me about the animals. Shit, i thought, theres a girl back for me and i’m here in this hole. Swimming. I was sad but not long because the bralette shone black again and her hair got all wet and slick on the ends. Fuck, i thought. I have a girl back home and i’m here in this hole. Sploshing. And the glasses on her face yellow and pink indigo swirling and dipping in the crystalline. Clouds sitting indian like animals in the sky, the cold wind velvet on my hands. I was profane and honest in my head but of course i could never speak that way, about anything, about anything at all. It tends to be like guilt or like innocence like fireworks reflecting in the little glass on her face. The numb and muted chandeliers swinging and dancing and moving without me? I haven’t the faintest clue as to whether i will be grace or dirt. Hinges upon like sex, the taste of the sweetest untouched fruit of the tongue and her’s, glinting ready. But its never always that, in which i think of quite often to be honest, but she’s easy to loveable and i cant not love her, i see it like the sun sits on the porch or on the shelf rather. But i also think its never me and it cant be. Who said that? Sure as hell not me. If there were one thing i wish so heavenly to be true, itd be that swimming hole to be the time and the other girl to be the hands on the clock swinging gently within glass while i parade like wind in her. The spoons in her right hand begging like sweet glass on the steeple downtown having the time worn down slowly without me but i hope to be there rushing into her the summer after next and we’ve both failed at university but now we’ve came around to liking each other’s face again. Fuck i can see her dark face all in on with mine and it ceases to be in that queen room up drawn to the top of me, the brain burns and singes and calls angry and the dusk kinetics float glide like breath, oh that is mine, that her’s, it’s here! It is here! wait , its gone and here today, but i regained then forget once more. Brooding the tongue pressed deeply sweet skin like magnolia petals so rough jagged and awe in cotton wrapped up placed so goddess in my arms broken the hips like small fast continuum of strength. SWITCH. Pulled and hampered rain golden tears broken blue to sweet skin, you are you and why can i never see that as a beauty. The swishing of that goddamn hair and the sing and the color not like the downtown in your life more like upstate because me and i can barely stand to you and pray in the fear i have so lovingly agreed to serve and the guilt hanging my neck unlike the 20s, o Emmit i miss you, the flash crack whips of your golden and hairy body sickest whip of cocaine fever lightening like skin of my bones and yours as well too its only a matter of small time and were growing and the other falling like a ditch that is to say we all fail and reover and do again for the sake of attempts and innumerable ones at that. You forsake me, please rejoice in the gold. Never like the return to the sender. And careful attempts of peace and all the warning passive signs of malaise wading in her, which, the sweet vegas chips screaming in the shoe box had warned me half a year for. Sang in the angel’s delicate chest, words valor and aqua vitae scrawled into black hair i weep and the tears mimic the sea crawl.