You could never predict the weather.
I know you meant to but you didn’t.
It was never as searing as it sounds. Truthfully hollow. My voices are hands,
And hands around your throat.
Forgiveness is choking my sight to the future,
Thickness of ink disguised in pupil’s virtue;
I cover thy scope
I am your sight.
Nostalgia from when you were salvaged.
I flipped it all on its head.
You flipped it when you were told.
I’m just an old riot girl who can’t find her lighter
I can’t remember which girl I kissed last night
And I don’t know who’s boots these are but I think I won them in a bet
But is it that time?
I walked and walked
Where the witch ran
I walked the desert
Where the shaman ran
Who am I to follow?
The lizard with three eyes
The wizard of ancient lies
Forget your way home
Forget your way home
Where do I find you
When there’s nothing to look for?
When the preface ends and it’s all snow from here.
Play for me your fantastic fantasy.
Where I slit your patience,
Your seductive catalogue of “has been” books,
And spill the talent of thousands.
It’s your fantasy that I lament.
It’s your patient’s that bind your book.
What happened to 5 o’clock somewhere?
When you could light a cigar off another’s notion?
We used to push through doors with shadowed beard ease
We used to toast the same shitty glass
Flourish and call it candidacy!
Your platform sags.
You’re wearing wet rags.
Don’t holster contempt with naivety.
Don’t offer beatings
Wake up and indulge!
Excitement in a cocoa wrap! Give it a lick and taste.
If I found it first it’s mine!
Don’t give me lip,
That pretentious slap in the mouth feared nothing but teeth,
You bled green on our plates.
You vomited like a sieve.
You are what you eat.
Nothing less than a man.
Don’t wait too long.
I always knew this train would be late.
In a dream,
I waited in mud.
I led myself to the fire.
I abandoned myself at the station.
Put that out!
Set it down.
Your opinion is smoke.
I’m this room.
In this river.
Your view cascades like arrogant fumes.
Toilet talking matter.
Fermented minimalist thought.
We don’t haul garbage here boy.
We don’t pull sheets off of shit.
Your discipline is garbage
Bullshit she said
If she ever had a thought
In her head.
If she new she could capture;
Fantasy of violence and horror,
Your limbs prevail,
And you stretch for the truth.
I light your cigarette,
I am your youth.
Don’t plan apostle,
For the apocalypse
Your state will never be
Withdraw from standing on your
Your stump does you
Skinned; she sat
Fucking table top nightmare.
Fucking incense orchestra.
Wave those digits wide.
Fan me with guilt,
Rusty, dust filled grinds.
I will never shoot for you;
Would never last.
Please touch me
Touch my sex
Roll me in boiling water
Too deep and under
My captains breath
My captains brass balls
Sweltering saviour ants
Drawing line to the galley
He sees only lantern light
He knows it’s where they said
When the divers emerged
A man emerged with them
He stood out from the bunch,
A real coyote.
I gave a wink on a hunch,
He’d let me roll the window down,
It was late summer and I was proud.
I was 24 karat gold in July.
Pistols to the duelist,
Chance shot peace.
Slip inside my tool.
Frazzle in it, seizure,
Scope pupil zoom.
I Cupid sight my target.
I pluck feathers from my tomb.
Did I just give birth?
She barely heated the thought as the nausea took hold. Pork belly rind. All she could think about was the strobing images of curly flesh. Frame after frame; expelling from beneath her navel; her sex. Souring the air of this world. She acknowledged her kin, and held back vomit. “What terror is this in my hands?By my hand?” She thought, “What burden of black and burnt could I have possibly sculpted? My lesion of worms, legion leader of snakes. I will celebrate your thrown horn and my matriarch to your anarchy.”
Can’t bear it
Beat of the drum
Falls into the boom
To the centre of gloom.
You lick it and look back
A simpler memory
A primitive North point
Concert of a lifetime
A century in third person
At last you’re that poor boy
At last somebody loves you
We will ;)
The ashtray. That familiarly putrid scent of Grandpa and fire. Ash to copper. The disgusting aftermath of domineerence. A whole genre built on the disgust of one man. I can still see how he looked when I was fifteen. Confused and raging against my defiance. Even at his worst he seemed a little boy. I even caught juvenile glint at fifteen; and believe me when I say that I used that intuition to my advantage. It wasn’t long before we were fisticuffs twice a month. When I was forced to return home for hunger or outstaying my welcome.
Paradox of Nun
Dirty little girl
He said it, you didn’t
It’s God’s hand that plays the Joker
Nonsense tries my magic tricks
Socialist spotlights highly confused
Apprentice butchers are skilled in the know
You’ll never find the numbers carved within yourselves
The media’s clit will show you plenty
Your cloth isn’t cut for this kind of fun
It’s new when it’s numbing
My lips stuck to skin so carnally inviting
Like drawing your own name out of a hat
You know the temptation of desire
A weighted slope
So pressing and tasty
My kiss is thinking for itself
Don’t leave or retort or disappoint
I will have nothing less than your incessant mystery .
My ticket to ride.
Sometimes I drop from the fervour.
Body's escape vessel.
The flares and flares,
That push this lit.
A welcomed break.
To not sweat this place.
I find you in the crevasse.
Between the things that don't matter.
When I'm drunk enough to explain us.
And submit completely.
They should strive to be us.
Lost in time and blankets.
There's no better wrapping than you.
You around me.
There's no louder laughing.
We are each other's perfect season.
Can someone warn us of turbulence?
My captain has fallen asleep at the helm.
Too silent this decent is.
Hold your breath and brace for hell.
Transferred in nonchalance
Delegated with less
The atlas stone Crushing shoulders broadened by war
Sharing fingers from as far as the eye can see
Passing out burden in rows
What comes after this heavy dream
There's no place my tips won't stretch for you
No shade dark enough to keep me away
When you are absent of light
When you have no voice
I'll be your reason to brave it through the night