blood lip, winter

i am seething, and still, with the, knowledge, that this, is
just a moment, of pain, coming up,
ghost trophies of old,

and, that, i don't, believe,
you, in, any, way, true,
or, my seafarer,

i'll kill, us, with my tongue, flared, up,
the roof of ceilings, spun,
swallowed,

deserved bruise, of, us
skin and, fiend,
skinny shattered cup,

i don't, want, answers,
just destruction, egg yolk,
mild wallpapers,

sure as, for tomorrow,
and i still,
shake,

the head,
is,
fucked ragged,

blood lip, summer

the first of the long dusks, the warm nights, the breathy midnights, the gun-metal-orange skies and steam and smell of mornings.

come into life

and all i can see are the flowers in the leaves in the wind, the green-shimmering-gold chandelier in its still smile, hung from warmth and the feeling returning.

cold mess, a week

our bruises have become warm places.

another morning in shivers, but my happiness feels like strawberry milk or hopscotch or warm book pages.

I like the rain when it's coming down into purple, slicing up the train window with cat whiskers, all of the light against all of the speed.

fuck sadness. you are goddamn brilliant. and you're a freak. and they hold the best half-smiles.