Nov 2, 2018
Sloppy
Your mouth has remained among the honey jar, a concoction of marijuana and body, a pungent blossom made to induce nausea
Hatred has grown like a stout full of snot from the back of a pub, and a guillotine of candied liqueur,
My seeds fall endlessly across the earth, freshly buried in blue mouth berries under graves of coconut palms that grow alone, without light
Blinded by how I recall hairs on your scapula, unattainable, I swallowed you and everything in the distance the smell of happy hour, turbulent love the angst of sloppy kisses,
I ate every monster off the map.
Seneca Basoalto | Poetry & Prose | for Hunter from Black Brooklyn, Bad Baby
