a city of faux pas and la vinci and i still wear honeysuckle chapstick from some macabre cocoa village where dulcet girls used to get raped when the liquor-scarred men couldn't stop what was attacking their 5 foot frame. their autumn breath always used to find a toy to dig inside their oozed ichor and sew their torsos with the plastic toy like fake fickle saints hiding curses beneath their rapist sulcum and i still have the honeysuckle chapstick inside my rotten calloused tote. i vomited dead silkworms when they planted their winter hands inside my throat and broke my oesophagus and i started to breathe the right way , i now no longer breathe the same winter air.
i am nirvana , i am moksha , ana-al-haqq , aham brahmasmi.
serrated lips no longer say what they want to say so they sew them and collect the skin like a girl who collects her trophies before getting raped , and the ugly Egyptian moon cried Dahlia flowers.
the pomegranate sun broke my stygian ribs.
YOU ARE READING
how do i tell a girl i want to kiss her
Poetryi broke my tooth while hiding from you
