The bell tolls for late dinners
understanding and becoming one?
but there isnāt anything left for you to say, but i havenāt forgotten how to read lipsĀ
if that would suit you, Father
touch to release the silver dove sleeping in your breastĀ
it swims quietly under your consciousness, thrums a little song only audible when the layer between you and your wishes are sparkling thin (such as, when you are about to fall asleep and the universe is a warm egg)Ā
cause thereās nothing to it but a dance move,Ā
a simple collision with complicated rulesĀ
like when to say hello on dark mornings and how much sugar to take in new companyĀ
and we could read the manual but you forgot it at your motherās place and god forbid you sneak around and search for itĀ
there isnāt anything more becoming than a pink ribbon on the neck, but iām scared of what youāll be when you take it offĀ
there is a small ashtray in our bedroom and itās filled with pepper candies and you have them when you wake up and when you go to bed you drink something clear and acidic and it stings me a little too, and iāve got boils in my dreams and the fairies are at your door again.Ā
if that would suit you, I would do it and I wouldnāt ask why, about the weekday weeklong soirees and friends without facesĀ
i would not ask anything because if i ask it would turn you inside out and then how would we stitch our bodies together?Ā
with a little puckering kiss that tears at me, of course, you say,Ā
cause thereās nothing to it but a rhythm of collisionsĀ
careening like stars and drawing a myth of infinite pinkness
izzy806
kianamaiart
romaincrisis
stormborns
origamiaround
