rep # 9
Grease filled mother, I don't need clothes to say who I am.
I take a deep breath and raise my hand.
Dream of blood and a stand up scene.
Are you sure that you know what you mean?
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rapid squirrel
open hearted field soaked with late summer sun no audience for this fervent laughter prickle green trees and cut fruit holding the back end of silence and stillness my back arches in a years old shirt sustenance that is only beginning
abstraction
read your face like a bible your name in thick, black ink we can't keep doing this there's a haste in my words a broken fever I'm covering up like a child with their hands and their knees in the dirt
overconsumption
kneel on my knees let her stand over me this prize, but a consolation make a comment watch her laughter sting the air life is but the simplest of pleasures
grievance
soft, sweet yearning gentle tone I'm caught wanting to be alone mouth drawn open eyes wide shut learning can't just be enough take my time say all my prayers broken open, can't compare