If I’m ever satisfied I’d be dead
Cus fuck me if things start to look smooth
Easy demure
I’ll be over here clicking me heels
There’s no place
There’s no place
There’s no place.
Shut the fuck up and hand me a whiskey
If I’m ever feeling alright
Make it stop
At my ankles
Twisted tattooed
Panties down
Leaning on the cold steel of a car
Peeing the peeking and seeking of my
Heart a peace of mind
A separate peace
If I’m ever ok
Take a picture
It’ll last as long as this poem

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Postscript

Somebody unplug me
Turn me off and on
Been smashing those keys
Like a dancer
Tapping the mouse
As if I will unfreeze but
I won’t
Please turn me off and on

Reboot
I know you wanna save those pictures
I know you wanna save those pictures
I know you wanna save those pictures
But don’t you want me more
Hollow, empty, glittering
Buzzing

I’ll hold more of you then
I’ll move faster
Be kinder
Fight viruses with better ease
Just
Erase me
I’ll be good as new

We can’t keep those
We can’t keep those
Rooftop rootin tootin
Your dre void listing
Listening and lusting
All gotta go

Your pet play
Big mouth
Christian emo
Reddit
Sir Arthur
Midgets (all the pc)
Pieces
Milf, leather, snuff
Anime
It’s all got
Clap to clap go

You can log in from any other station,
But today I got
To musnt
Be full
Of megabit cum
And tease and
Your face of bastard
Sweet with rose cheeks
And rotting teeth
Pube face and
Moon waxing
Animal

Just spill some soda on me
Get me sticky and useless
Es es es es es es es
Let me blink out into eternity

Or just
Shut me off and on

Hey 

Lust does not beget love
The radio recycles
The same sappy song
We’re on the rooftop
But it’s not romantic
Seeing the fresh morning sun
That we stayed up to greet
But it’s not romantic
It’s the fur of Cheshire Cat
All pinks and purple
In love with us
Not romance,
But devastation
I don’t get you
You say say say
They don’t love you like I love you

I deserve love
Friend
Fried and smothered in
Gravy chunks
Dribble down your dumb beard
I deserve love
And I am for you
I am tender loving kind
The ting to yer
Step
The babadum
To your warm
Sweet smelling chest
But you don’t think
I’m for you?
The air is thick with unlove
And you think I’m not for you?

I’m here subservient
Feeling the static
Coming from your stare and skin
I’m a fool falling all over herself
A trapeze of unrequited
A clown
You need me you love me
And you think I’m not for you?

Bold move
Dear friend
Fried and smothered
Earth lover
Life fucker
Your name dances
On my tongue
As much as it swims
In my empty pretty head

My eyes have seen you
They gulp you all in
Two pools
Of murky water
Two honey pots
Full of nectar
Only for you
I am
Me only for you
And you think I’m not for you?

Tried and true
Your stain is unremovable
Your love a cause
For despair
Disrepair all my curls
Withering from lack of warmth
Your breath no longer
Dampening each strand
In the morning
No longer fogging over
My forehead like
The goddamn
Sweetest morning dew

I pray the lord we both belong to
He cauterizes this wound
After a swift incision
But I am a clown
And this is my 25 cent joke
Do you like it?
How am I not for you?

Mosaic
Glass stained
Eyes
Slither past
Your holy fount
Doubt becomes a mist
The mist release
A musk
A must of spring anew
Desire is vibrant in
Every molecule
You can
See my two
Irises
Dancing in place
A pendulum
Following the heat
And heart
Incense incite
A flame in two cupped hands
Wishing I’d written
You something that beautiful
Rose quartz
Topaz Thomas
I’m your Tere
I’m your car wreck
The hopping rabbit
And everything vibrates in place
All shiver and slither and thither
Tithing thief
My heart in a wicker basket
Pushed on a river of blood
Now I’m writing you something new
And my temple is under siege
A forked road
Of stanzas not quiet merging
Of water and oil
Waif
Dissolve now in my throat
The body is broken
The glass window
Has been polished
By light beams
That seep into flesh
And warm up the river
To my wicker basket
Buoyant
Hoping
Bithia finds me
At the shore

I’ve been taught better
But I stand convinced
We are built from pleasure for pleasure

Witness me, electrician of the Nile
Today I proclaim even suffering is
Sensation
And all sensation is pleasure
Witness me, moonlit eyeballs and assholes

The glint of
The prepubescent boy’s gaze
Is full of purposeless possibility

Witness me, Ivy League school
With your safe chartered waters
And a certificate of wealth, excellence or both

Witness me, depravation
Odor
Taste
And sight
Witness me, long
Organ that wraps all in
Pain or incomparable delight

Witness me
Witness me
See sea see me
Sea saw my way into
Your circus

I’m here painted of face
Ready for warfare
Here ready for the long sigh
And short breath
The cardiac arrest
The bleeding steak
At my gnashing teeth
The purple stain
Of a night well spent
On thighs and neck

Witness me, moderation
For I am at peace when I
Climb the sensation
Of cessation
The agony
Of separation
The drum line
And drum skin
The trumpets at the brim

Witness me, messiah
I am forever yours
In tears and dreams and laughs
You are a dancer like me
A lover like me
A pleasure like me
Author of repetition and surrender
Author of sands and gold
Author of saliva
Lhyam
Amen

Does it matter that I’m a good poet?
That I can peel back your skin with
The edge of my tongue
That my fingers can pry
Into your heart
All thumbs
Hitching for your subconscious
To hop on in
Does it matter that I’m a good poet
That I’ve mirrored your secrets
Under harps of saliva
That I take the time to overthink
So you don’t have to?

Does it matter that I’m a great dreamer
That Jesus comes by in a John Stamos disguise
Or the disguise of e.e Cummings
Or the jolt of
A tumbling tower

Or the colorful mask at a ball
Or the proclamation that I AM
Fortune’s fool!

Does it matter that I hate the silence so much
I create my own buzz?

And it’s your noise
Lingering in my inner ear

Your mouth in my cavern
The pulse of a breath so heavy
You desire the oxygen lanced
From the lung
For the buzzing to stop

But I won’t let it

I’ll drown in it, goddamn it

You need to breath loudly
as much as I need to hear it

Without your noise
The emptiness would take over
And I’d be one of those annoying enlightened types

That like themselves.

And once that happens
Will it matter if I’m a poet?