chisled it in your face
with a fork, scarred the bits
and pieces i couldn't change.
removed proverbial foot
from oversized mouth and stopped to
analyze the momentary
before abyssmal regurgitation
into porcelain God.

i think
i might be
in love.

counted the cigarette burns
and the lacerations,
the dyslexic assasination of
patricide before birth
and wanted to understand
Biblical references
over cheesy fries.
smegma-related consequence
and alternate dimensions
of love-hate saga retribution.

did you hear
the birds today?
they were lovely.

74 degress outside
i fold and fold and fold my hands
before the door. want to swim
in marmelade and pencil shavings.
subjective philosophical debate
amidst an early mid-life crisis,
drink and drink and drink,
and drink.
we wear our nonsense on the outside
show the pigment from within.
i like the color of your eyes
and the taste of your salty skin.

i promised you i wouldn't lose my shit.
you said it's not wise to swear,
and i told you to fuck off.

it's how good you are to me that turns me off.
why don't you find all the fault and consequence?
all the reasons to isolate yourself
and point out mistakes, emphasize my insecurities
and high-light all the flawed markings and
exert yourself by verbal assualt?
we lay still and i don't wince when you touch me
because it doesn't hurt and i can't decide
if i like it.

04/12/2006

Posted on 04/12/2006
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