about me: mostly good

or want to be

spit something personal into my

29 year old mouth 5’4 busty and who

are you? horny with a tongue? online? drive?

i got a thing for the hopeless older

men want experience? need to be bossed

around to have fun? love sucking dick in your

thanks a lot lol have u ever

been the most lonely place in bed

stuy come by on lonely nights mine’s

the one with the honey

locust out front let me seek your

body if interested and got

time text me srsly

Standing in the kitchen

Braless

Unshowered

Broke

Buttering my

Eggo waffle

I say

I needa do something

Man

There’s no one else 

In the room

So the statement

Resonates

An echo

Bouncing off the surface

Of the moon

At a bar

Called Alphaville

I blow lines

In a dirty stall

How many lines

How many stalls

And or strangers

I was exhausted

Whatever

Now I’m up

Reading books before bed the national @sleepfoundation reports is one of the best ways to fall in vivid dreams in which the unthinkably purple happens 

in another life

composed of this one I’ve been thinking

about you

a bit

I’ve fallen

asleep on a roof

apparently

at dawn I wake and you

oh you

have come out in the night like a sugar

glider or moth

a kitten

to press with me

and lay

myself a stamp

against you soft

I’m afraid you may have ended up here

by mistake 

no

no we

thrust into each other

adagio the way it’s

done when it’s new

I whisper

is this real

it’s not

you say

nothing

but pause and

hand me your brain then

pick up a pen

a piece of

poetry non-

fiction on watching me

strength

train at the gym

I could dominate

any man

all men

want to be overpowered

by a girl

like me

I can barely

hear you

give it to me

I say

on paper

and tongues

and feel

nerves about my hair

I pull it

back

I pull the

blanket

up

a chill probably mid 30’s

closer look and ask

is this okay of course it is it’s my fucking dream later can’t capture how it breathed so I paint what I’ve seen on the window

Hello 

just simple looking 

for someone to see on a regular 

basis into building 

some sort of friendship am black 5'9 

am dtf you be the same and 

please send pics with your reply and 

serious white male with lotsa fantasies

some lived out some never 

to be. I'm lonely

and home early on Fri night

Would love to e-mail 

or message with a woman whos 

kinky herself. Just be 18+

and enjoy kinky e-mail exchanges 

successful professional 

experienced sadist behind 

closed doors, looking for 

a woman want a long-term 

relationship based on pain and intense 

punishment. Limits respected

of course. Any age, any 

level of experience 

considered, but no smoking

drug use, heavy alcohol 

consumption or overweight. 

I'm a perverted man and I love to make 

virgin girls very nervous. I 

like doing creepy things 

to make you feel 

embarrassed and uncomfortable

I want you to feel nasty 

and dirty when you go home

You will come back again

for more. You have needs too but 

want to keep your virginity

You can go home feeling all the things 

your friends only told you about 

and have your virginity intact alone

I live in Tomkins Cove 

but would be more than willing 

to travel to meet you. I am hard-

working, creative, sensitive 

and dynamic. I have a good life 

I am only missing a partner 

in crime. I love animals and am 

a good cook (bad news 

for both of us) and I have pics 

to trade and I’m for 

real. Race and Size (I want to be 

upfront about my size)

unimportant

Did you know

There’s one dimension

That’s nothingness?

I strip in it

very dtf

very serious

love pleasure

put #PLEASURE

in subject line

so i know

you are real

I couldn’t pick out of a lineup some of the men I've slept with have definitely been in lineups some of them were some of the men I've slept with were definitely I know for sure probably decent men it's a numbers game. Some of the men I've slept with were players and some cheated and I didn't care and most of the men I slept with didn't care if I cared it was some of the men I didn't care about who were sexy/much/paid and some weren't some of the men were sexy and some weren't much. Some paid. Some didn't have hair and some of the men I've slept with had longer hair than me were shorter or they were taller almost all of the time I was better at conversation. I did the talking.

what is the de

claration of in

dependence 

what is the 

deep web den

sity of wat 

er dependent 

variable the def

inition of love

is it the way wi

nd turbines 

work or how 

worms repro 

duce or the way 

we see color

can honey go

bad can flam 

ingos even fly

There is no person

In the picture

Rather, it’s peopled

I’m most of them

My husband and I 

Get turned on with the warm

Weather it's coastal like not

Just us but everyone

But him for the thighs and me

For the arms. Exposed flesh 

Makes us both kooky and uncuffed

He looks good with a little fire 

In his eye and he likes 

The math of my horniness it's #physics

Something about the nucleus of us

And how far we can radiate out

We go far. We're far out

And always come home where 

It's solid and cool with the ceiling

Fan whirring in our room

My favorite friend is the wind.

For a king, the wind is a kind of lover.

It blows and knocks against me. 

I’m tickled, we tickle each other. 

That sound you hear, that “shhhhhh”,

is laughter. That’s me laughing, 

and smiling, and knowing my height. 

That sound is what I use 

to hypnotize, arouse. It’s the sound 

of seasons. Below me 

is grass, people cutting grass,

making soft things sharp. 

People like to treat the earth

sharply. What they are cutting 

are fingertips, cheeks, whole bodies, 

breasts. My plea: Let my figure be.

It’s the color of cold coffee, and my hair 

is green. Greener than green. Green 

was named after me.

Fuck my image

Cut a hole in your phone and

Fuck my image

Thinking about my

Content

Thinking about all the times

#failed to #like 

Greatness

About newness 

And the impulse to destroy

The digital

Nice try

It’s self-generating

I mean really take 

For instance me I

Literally just fucked 

Myself and look 

Look

At what I’ve made

Echoing letters might let you find shelter

in my page and my eyes and against

my nipples. Suck them

until my whole body feels like a 

shining palace. I’ll never not

be thinking of you, the deep

web of you. Wow…I found a sky

inside. There’s water and seeds and 

clouds and does the aroma

of my cunt speak its own language?

Does my attention to your blood-pumped

cock make you feel like a feather floating

in the essence of spring wind? 

Do you want to meet me 

for the first time again and again

and again and again? Say yes and we can

do it this way and that until

a document like this one seals us forever 

in #heaven’s #blue #digital #breeze.

Somebody is topless exposing their bare chest in several scenes. Somebody eats peanut butter slowly off their fingers (some may find this sensual). Somebody tells somebody else about their erotic dream, causing tension. Somebody says that they feel “a little gay.” Two people kiss and one takes off the other’s shirt. They lie back on the bed quietly and intimately touching. It begins to rain. From an aerial view we see somebody lying on a bed in a darkened room with their bare buttocks toward the camera and one thigh close to the lens. Somebody wears a T-shirt and shorts, presumably belonging to somebody, not pictured, with whom they’ve just finished. On the wall we see many nude paintings and photographs of people submerged in various bodies of water. “You act like a man,” one says to another. Somebody laughs and kisses the camera.

Fuck the girl in the rodeo hat

And the fishnets on the Q 

Train trying so hard

To stand out 

Fuck the girl in the fishnets

No, no, don’t 

Fuck her. God…

Can you hear me? I 

Take it back 

Don’t fuck her. If you have to

Fuck anyone 

God…

Fuck me fuck 

Me instead

I love your captions

And your entire IG

Can I be open about something unique on your poems

I got erect reading at least three of them

Is that okay

Haha exactly

Poetry has more to do with the reader than the writer anyway

Can I ask you more or tell you more about me

Well

I’m bi

Date women but sexual with both

I like big tall hung guys

Size matter to you?

Just curious

Lol

Gotcha

I love eating pussy but

I have to

I’m tiny [covers eyes]

Would you fuck a small one

Cool cool just curious

I’ve had some incidents with it

The first time my ex saw she said she needed an open relationship

She fucked other hung men the whole time

She needed to be filled

She fucked another guy like 3 or 4 times a week

She often let me listen and masturbate

Which I lived

Loved

Thoughts?

Sure

Can we keep talking?

Tomorrow

Or something

Are you not into this?

Our open convo

Getting to know each other

Am I not your type?

Or just not attracted to me

My size?

Gotcha

Sorry I still have so many questions

I know you’re in bed

But your pics are amazing

Don’t wanna talk anymore?

Totally respect that

Just like a quote or a screenshot or what

Are you going to make fun of me

I got nervous

I really like your page and think you’re incredible

But I know I’m not your type

I want to of course respect that

Like on your IG page with my name and photo blacked out?

I do really like humiliation yes it’s my favorite part

Oh very much yes

That’s probably my all time favorite

I’ve always loved to be humiliated over how small my cock is

How tiny and pathetic it is. How much smaller than most men

There’s something sexy about a woman letting me know I’m not enough

I mean no but yes

I mean average is 6 I’m well below that

May I tell more

I love to watch a partner fuck another man

While I’m forced to wear my cock cage

I like what I like

Including wearing panties

Currently wearing lingerie

Interested?

Or not your cup of tea

Haha no I’m not but that’s a funny visual

You’re not gonna use my profile pic or name in your post right

Cool

Gotcha

Any weekend plans?

I eat.

I sleep.

I look at trees. 

I touch myself and touch your hair. 

I put things in my room. 

I eat, I am a tree. 

I like my fingerprints all over your 

body. I am an animal. 

I am your whole midday. 

When you raise your hand to your head, 

your legs shake. 

I lick you there. The phone chirps. 

I unlock #worlds with my fingerprint.

Hold me in your hands. 

Watch me. Read me. 

Press me till I play. 

Make me feel powerful 

with my head hot 

in your unafraid grasp. 

Love me so my form 

is made light, 

fuller than the first cell. 

My mouth curli-

cued into the shape of a heart 

the size of a universal molecule. 

I feel safe when you’re loading me, 

the only piece of trash 

atop the highest mountain. 

I revel in the noise 

my body makes 

crinkling in the wind. 

I'm glad to have this language,

to live soundly within 

endlessly touching

dimensions touching 

without end

We’re pretty in the bathroom of the bar under the light of the street in the corner of your room I’m pretty in mascara it’s all I wear 

Tomorrow you’ll be in bed with another girl mouths and fingers down the streets I just was 

The end of our road is as it happens I thought to myself which seemed brilliant but reading in the morning found the poem devoid of meaning

Not everything means something: 

Body temperature 

Swan adventure 

Engine 

Drum 

I’m fine 

and so very down in a man's basement apartment the brick is exposed we’re inside out

combined super smart reckless nothing will come of this good now imagine him: 

Tall 

Hugged 

Wrapped 

Stinging me 

Hands big enough to make his glass look small 

Tonight if I’m anything I’m neon on Mars with four hands between us 

Put something inside me I’ve been hungry all week vibrating smiling our textures

could not be more different yet

we both like whiskey and the song above our heads listen

I’ll pretend to be asleep you come back in the room we’ll combine fantasies we’ll sweat heaven

is the highest point from which you can still see home

I’m waving giant waves

I’m not a bitch.

I’m a cunt.

There’s a difference.

I’m made of fire, I’m an artificial local,

I’ll be a boygirl forever,

a clear fact fluttering:

I enjoy the guise

of powerlessness…it’s easier.

I’m in a painting

pinching and pushing men

with painted fingernails,

and if you ask me,

I’d have pissed the bed indefinitely,

exploded nectar messy all over the house.

I’d have poisoned him

and fake cried at the funeral.

I guess that’s lady like.

Sliding on my tights.

Smokey eyed.

Calling my guy for medication.

Falling at your feet.

To rescue. Sounds of steam emanate

from the wolf-like sky. This is power:

moon working full time. The glossy

black beard and bloodshot eyes

meet where your cleavage seizes his

mediocre prize. Special persuasion,

huge bellow and spray of not-water,

then under, often rolling around. He’s

a rusty hand, a bad sailor, a farmer

growing worms, tipping cows, acting

like the prince of some unknown land.

Feed him seeds to keep him in check,

while crying, if you want. Be angry

and crazy and bad at driving. Be a

bee, a bat, a beautiful witch with blood

in her vat. Make strange noises that

no one will hear. They have to listen,

when the shadows cast are so misleading.

What they want, they don’t, and give,

and cry out like fire. Accidents

happen, memories collect in a way

that makes them never see you.

But the window’s broken—they see

you: a city filled with jealousy, borders,

wild parties, background checks, smooth

hair and bowed heads. Do not cross

your legs, let them in to your ravine.

Turn, shrink, make them think you’re a

dog. Yet, you lead them, straight

into your cave. Update: four inch grave.

God wants me to hit him.

I show him no mercy.

“You’re nothing,” I tell God.

“You’re a worthless little bitch.”

I spit in his mouth. With that, 

God gets hard, so I hit him again. 

I could make him do anything

I want, and say so. I tell God

he’s my slave. I make him 

kiss my feet, suck on them.

I step on God’s cock and God

winces but gets harder

and harder, impossibly so.

“Use me,” God says. I sit 

on God’s prick like it’s a dildo 

until I’m filled with the

juice of creation. We laugh 

as we roll onto our backs. 

We kiss. We look into each other’s 

eyes. God takes my hand. My inner

god of pleasure delights.

“I love you, God.” God says it back.

I’m a car on the highway

my lungs within me and this highway 

have the same shit going on


When I look at those cars zooming

in the distance I swear I see me

Not like in a car or as a car but as the


whole shebang. Hovering over,

embodied. Lights flicking off the top

like a filter

Tongue clean shoes

Feet clean tongue

Your feet dirty

Do you like

Yes or no

Are you LA

Tongue clean feet

Yes or no

Are you LA

Text me

No?

No like

Clean shoes?

Send me picture

Send me picture #feet

Under feet dirty

Very dirty

Tongue clean like

Yes

Yes

Tongue clean good

I’m dog for you

Have you collar for me

I like this

Do you like I’m dog

I’m good for you

I’m clean for you

Clean shoes for you

Honey

I want sex that incorporates writing

I want to not feel too fat for that

Your thigh speaks to me

Give me your tired your poor

your wretched so directly

Would it make you feel anything

if I thought about you

while masturbating meaning

You up?

Yeah im up

Wya?

In the city whatsup

You know

??

I wanna

Wya

Red hook

Word im in the city

Lol ya

What you want me to do?

Be closer

Yo...

It’s crazy like…

I’m at the bar...

And my pussy...

Needs attention...

I feel it…

In my pussy...

Do they know?...

Don’t they know?...

I’m here…

And I need it...

Not from anyone…

But someone...

When he’s a piece of shit but you still get off to his pics. When he texts you every morning but you’ve never met (and you never will). When you forget to delete the messages. When you accidentally delete the messages. When he’s funny. When he’s not. When he’s a bad liar with a deep digital footprint. When he’s as open as you are. When you like it too much. When you need it. When you can’t have it. When you need it and you get it, over it. When it’s happening and you forget who you are. When it’s happening and you like it but the day delivers deep regret. When, for some reason, he thinks you owe him your time. When you wish you’d stayed in. When he says one wrong thing and you cut him off. When you become sort of friends. When he asks why you do what you do and you attempt to explain the unexplainable to someone who definitely already knows. When he’s actually really talented. When he teaches you something new. When he’s cheating, when he’s wrong, when it’s not your fucking problem. When he’s dense, when he’s thick. When he knows what to do. When he gets you. When he looks at himself through someone else's eyes. What he sees.

Really horny for you

Fuck

Googling you every night

If only I could read your diary

I guess

I kind of can

Okay so I wish

You had a private diary

That you dropped on the street

That I find

At first I don’t know it’s yours

It’s just a book on the street

In front of Mohammed’s

I was buying a loosie

It’s pretty nondescript

Gray cover, rounded edges

Stitch bound but not

In an artsy or pretentious way

More like in a cheap way

Could belong to anyone

I open it

It has your number written in pencil

Kind of faded

In the corner of the inside cover

Despite never having seen you

Write anything down on paper

I recognize your penmanship

Almost immediately

And feel suddenly

Like I’m doing something wrong

You must have just been here

This is neither of our neighborhoods

I scan for you

The coast is clear

I duck into the bar where

I devour your contents

It’s the most I’ve read in a while

It’s not personal

It’s lyrics

Which I guess are personal

But written with the intention

Of being shared

Considered in other words

Oh look

There’s a little

Pocket

In the back

Something’s inside

It’s that picture of me

Flashing the photo booth

I can’t believe you kept it

The Atlantic but louder

and louder in the otherwise quiet apartment 

The ocean with its

unknowable levels of depth

A sump saying

drain me

or

electric shocks wetting the dry world: a girl

swimming in blessings in bed. Volume and temperature. Deposits and verdure. Equator running through. South facing waterfall gushing from fake sky. Hurricane Florence. Crocodile smile. Leaking out. The Nile with its curves. Bottomless fountain. Whirlpool vibes. Dead Sea once it comes clean from me. Finally vapor. Street lamp pouring down the gutter. Thirst and beg of heat. Ninety percent of the human body is a flower

in a melted pale pool. The bed 

a necklace of liquid candy

with me lying in it—

come over

have a few too many

I start touching you

let me

Write a poem in 4 minutes

While waiting for the train

A waiting for the train poem

Write a poem about running

To catch the train

I have honestly always

Maybe not always always

But for a while

More than 4 minutes

Wanted a train

To be run on me

To be the track

On which the train runs

Or am I a train

And the boys are conducting

Or am I the conductor

And the boys are passengers

Or am I a passenger

In my own body

And the boys are the train

If the boys are the train

Does that make me a shallow tunnel

Or are we all rail cars

Linked by screws and tension

Lips and miscellany 

Crowded with people like the 

Middle-aged guy in work clothes who 

20 years ago was probably my type 

On the orange plastic bucket seat

Looking up my skirt

Lately I’ve been walking

Around like the only woman

In the world and I am

The only woman in the

World like me

Like me

Like me

How many times did you masturbate today? asked my therapist never yet still he insisted I look into it. Having a problem I mean. We came to some fruitful conclusions but he always wanted to bring it back to my mom. Plus I saw him look at the clock a lot. Oh well. I’d rather spend that money on massage, though I do kind of miss him. He was a nice guy and I liked how he called sex “an interest” of mine. Like poetry. Does anyone else get turned on at the masseuse? There’s a great place in Chinatown no frills where they dig in so deep I could cry. Go harder I say. Wow you can take a lot he replies. I smile at myself into the headrest. I’m sick. I’m confused about my attraction to women but not in a way that matters. Just like scared of what would happen if she accepted my advances. Makes me shy. I think I’d probably be good at eating pussy once I got past the shyness. I say that like I’ve never done it before. Bossy women only or I’ll just stick to my vibrator does this weird thing where it turns off right before I’m about to cum. It’s not the batteries I’ve replaced them. Any theories? Maybe I should use my hands more or masturbate less said me never. Cure for everything. Headache stomachache can’t fall asleep. Once at 6 a.m. on Thursday I gave my number to a young guy doing work in the building which I soon regretted—too close for comfort. Or maybe I wasn’t into the pic he sent. His dick looked like it was wearing a top hat but it was very big almost all the way hard I do like them like that very much yes. Sometimes this page feels like an exercise in embarrassing myself. It brings me to some fruitful conclusions. How deep I dig to get somewhere

I started writing because I wanted to write but it all feels like bullshit because want doesn’t mean much to say


Today


I went food shopping

The super stopped by to fix the heat

I deposited a check on my phone

Googled how many ounces in a pound

I opened the window

I opened the mail


Not poetry! Everything else


Could I write about the dinner

I’ll cook later

How mostly what I think about is food

And other forms of consumption

All while laying around hating my body

My stomach hurts so much I say

To myself

To stop myself

From doing crunches in the other room


First

I want a poem

Before I can do anything more I want a fucking poem!


I read @devilintraining_’s book and I’m jealous

At how their writing reads like thought

Is that how they think?

So pretty

And deep

I want my thoughts to be pretty/deep

Too

I want someone to inspire me

Irl I mean

I want to go to the bar and make friends with the bartender

I want her to fall in like with me

I want her to tell me a secret

So I can feel special on this gloomy Monday

I want someone to appear in my messages

With a digital jewel

Get licked on the lips of my soul

Originally wrote that as

The lips of your soul

Wonderfully wet


image

heart

devil

lips

heart


Dear someone I do not know

Please

Truth

Or dare me to think more

Give brains (verb)

To perform

To submit

To get one’s knees dirty

To bring to one’s knees

To suck the chrome (off a tailpipe)


The brain is the largest

Organ in the body


Suck my dick

Definitions include: a request for oral

or an insult

Definitions include: to choke


Other terms relating to ‘brain’:

Blow (one's) brains out

Bird-brain

Brain-damaged

Brain-dead


Other terms relating to ‘give’:

To give a damn

To give a fuck

To care


Similar terms include:

Blow job

As in

It’s on the tip of my tongue


Other terms related to ‘blow’:

Cocaine

A disappointing situation or

To explode


Other terms related to ‘job’:

A piece of work

A crime

9-5 (hours/inches)


Similar terms include:

Dick

As in Richard

Derived from the Germanic element ric,

Hard, “brave, hardy” and

Power, “powerful leader”


Dick

As in prick: to pierce with a sharp point

As in tool: to carry out a particular function

See also: loser

As in wiener: an inept person

See also: frankfurter or similar meat


Related term: pork

Meaning

To ‘bone’, to ‘fuck’, to ‘bang’, to ‘plow’


Or pig

As in police


Definitions include: to control, to suppress

As in: stoppage or reduction of a discharge or secretion

Definitions include: officers


As in cops

As in ‘cop a feel’

As in

Those who attempt to censor

An activity or publication

As in


Book ‘em

As in

Throw the book at ‘em

Impose the maximum possible

Sentence


What book?


The imaginary book

With all the rules

Yet to be more rightly—


In accordance with right conduct:

Fairly, Justly

In the right or proper manner:

Properly, Fittingly

According to truth or fact:

Correctly, Exactly


—articulated

Work @instagram: Our small teams

inspire creativity around the world

by helping over 500 million people

capture and share beautiful butterflies.

The number one term used to describe

butterflies is beautiful. Actually, butterflies

are insects with large scaly wings, six legs,

and not everything needs to be beautiful.

Butterflies have three main parts:

head, chest, and tail. Their eyes

have 6,000 lenses. They do not sting

or bite and therefore to kill them

is particularly cruel. They drink blood

harmlessly from open wounds

and tears from the eyes of reptiles.

They are attracted to spit.

They are colorless, with glass wings

off of which light reflects, creating

complex and varied patterns. First,

as an egg, they’re laid on a leaf.

A caterpillar hatches, consumes the shell

from which it emerges and loses

its skin over and over as it eats leaves

and grows one hundred times in size

Then the caterpillar digests itself

inside a chrysalis made of its own skin

and turns to goo. From this,

a butterfly is born. Her wings will be wet

and heavy, but within a few hours she’ll

have mastered flight and be desperate

to mate. Penetrated in the same hole

out of which her eggs will be laid

onto a carefully selected host plant,

her greatest threat is the replacement

of flowering plants with manicured lawns,

industrial farms, and beautiful gardens.

When I get my period I don’t wear a tampon or pad I just

Bleed into my underwear


My period blood has gotten darker as I’ve gotten older

And it doesn’t seem quite like liquid anymore


I can smell my pussy under my skirt sometimes stronger

When I have my period and I think it smells pretty good


Once I met up with a guy I didn’t

get to see that often

Because he was (is) a dirtbag

who ditched me a lot

But we finally met up and he kept trying to

go down on me

We were in a public bathroom and I let him

Put his face all up in there

And I had my period lightly

And he never knew I don’t think


I stood above him looking down


I don’t like to get eaten out

on my period but I

Let him cuz he seemed desperate and I was desperate

His desperation was hotter than mine


When you take off the fitted sheet

my bed has all

Sorts of stains on it

Showed her a picture of my husband

Him in bed in the apartment on

16th Street laying shirtless with

his hands behind his head


I like his hairy armpits she said


He does have nice armpits I agree

I have another friend who

likes sniffing armpits I like getting

spit in my mouth and pretending

like it’s being made

to happen

to me


I had a very momentary mentor

Momentary because it got weirdly tense

I think he resented my freedom

Dare I say he was jealous

But yeah I think he was jealous

of my freedom

and its exercises

in my rapidly depleting but still here youth

My autumnal youth

My flashing the garbage man

at dawn youth

My crawling on the dirty rug youth


Anyway I like spit

in my mouth and throat fucking and

would be open to servicing two men

at the same time from opposite ends

and tonight remembered I do in fact like

eating pussy though I cut

on my sharp tooth the webbing

underneath my tongue hot in my mouth


The mentor guy asked once

what my poems are even doing

as if they’re supposed to complete a task

or be lessons or reach some sort of climax

or be in service of something


I dunno I’m just writing

sharing maybe

someone will jerk off to them that’s 

a whole lot

more than many poems can say

for themselves don’t you think or did you 

know some people are attracted to

armpits?


Maybe it’s confusing because #poems

are so often encrypted

and I’ve left nothing to decipher,

it’s just Tuesday night at 3. No,

Wednesday morning at 2:53 a.m. more

specifically I’m leaning over the side

of my bed in the dark to write this.

I’m gonna put my phone down

in a second and rest in the crook

of his arm and he smells fucking good

and his warmth is the best

poem because it means he’s alive 

and I am too if I feel it

I’m changing my name to Golden

Blossom

Like the honey

Brand


Mine’s resting upside down in

Its plastic container on the counter

So the good stuff can gather

All crystallized

At the hole


Why does that happen

Harden


He says that’s how you know

It’s pure


Well

I find it difficult to take men

At their word


And turn to my phone

For proof


You think I’m gonna tell you?

What it says

On the web?


No, go

Get obsessed with your own

Earthly phenomenon


Stand in your own kitchen and stare

Affectionately at the jar

w/@&4u

Sound of pictures dimmed

in late night’s heaving normalcy


I’m a key on a chain


What I can do better than shout I should

sing outside for example, body hot

and fiddling, hydrogen videos fogging


Take a long leap

stop talking about hunger and eat


Dirt and chocolate

under my nails my bed

lit uninnocent of the bind

I’m a spark burnt by all the color


Gone. Brain flogged


I miss whatever it means to be

uninterrupted. I miss


The glowing dark, roof burnt of mouth

headlights flashing, disappearing

in the feed of my phone, the attention

whore’s chariot


Destroy the page

The words still exist


Meaning inside me

Wood is hard. Water is wet.

Ice cream is cream.

Water is wet, water is steam.

Wood is firm. Ice is wet. Water is pure.

Liquid and moist. It changes shape.

Water is juice. Water is wet.


Pink

pink pink

pink pink.


Water is sweet because I am wet.

I watered the bed.

The bed frame is wet.

The bed frame is wood.

Everyone’s damp. Fire is hot.

Wood is hard. I flooded the bed.

Waves are wet and you fell in.

Then I blew you like a strong wind.

Sally is a black hole

composed of sticks, light, marbles, piracy

of fingers, Corvette muscles pulling

and pushing the thighs and relaxing

together with the forward and backward

femural february fever and falls.

Movement. Heavy breathing.

Can you keep the lightness in the hole

unharmed, never escaping


Mathematics: warm + soaked

in the then again wrapped

around your fingers telling it semi-

straight transparent pale pink

glossy leather do not talk blackness.

O, O Sally you are a darkened mirror,

something I’d like to read written

in bright Crayolas like photos out of

my mind a valve of silence broke the blue-

eyed waters, street full of nylon

in my mouth, an egg

with explosive gnawing excess fingers

in the middle of the hole, boiled plums,

Dick, Dick, another type of food


Sally in her head or open

in her eyes, blue, yellow at the feet of him,

eternal indecence flash 

fired in abundance and cooked in

a universe, Sally's face, the true pool

of cats and dogs, they slink

down the stairs, jump and say:

I know Sally in her black blouse 

whose material slinks in a similar 

direction, and let’s not sleep, let’s only 

roll over, as the dog, as marbles, 

planets playing KerPlunk in that black hole

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