I am one petal surfacing on cloud-palettes,
Odd strings to a bleak canvas; etched
Or summoned to the sordid sheets that moisten
The naked roofs of painted mouths.
This isn't how you win with these bottled dialogues;
Winding motions escaping velocity; or achey fingers
Forfeiting a bullseye with one stroke of ineffable sin.
And vibrantly entangled in charcoal-dust pools
(A dark energy spiraling in my chest like razorfans)
Or peaking beyond the snake-sack
mountain tops is that ordinary stranger
Strangled in radiation or static
And the appletree quenched in utter obscenity.
Began tracing its dark transparent features on pale bodies;
The gift of crimson despair.
A casket-harlot on the brink of slipping in brittle
Bouqets (hiding like candlesticks or needlepins)
To embellish behind the cold skin of cellardoors.
I am one petal perfectly in a twist.
Two weeks of discovering new landscapes and mingling despair on trees and leaving my heart in some abandoned floor is going to be W H I M S I C A L and musical. Believe that.
Sophia let's go sew and look for jobs this week. And Dez where the fuck are you girlfriend?! Jessica should read this and know that we're hanging out s00n.
And yes, I'm recruiting my angels.