H.

with him...i talked of sickles

with you...i want the pitchfork

airate me...like that clay colored soil under those green trees that remind me of your underbrush eyes

eyes that i desperately need on me

kiss me under those stars...stars like the million promises we were both promised

i'll keep them for you...in the sky, as i reminder of what i can hold onto for you

of you

you are a man.

and i am a sorry excuse for a keeper of your stars...
let me keep them anyway

stride with me
you
i
it
will grow

and we shall toast triumphantly, the fruit of our labor

and i'll just bet...it will taste sweeter
under promised stars

sorry

today the sun did not shine.

but as the moon passed over this valley.
a slow tide pulled at my skin.
and washed the heartache of yesterday.

there will be days when i will not smile.

but, today, as the sun did not shine...i am left with moths in my stomach, clinging to light we haven't felt in a while.

saturated heat.
easy street.
your hand engulfing mine.
positive reinforcement.

forget what you own.

this.
is what makes you human.

for c

sweat, pouring.

we aren't moving a muscle.
and yet, it pours.

i want to run a sickle down the back of your arms and capture that moisture in a cup for me to drink.

i want to know your oil, your salt.

it wasn't just the heat that made me sweat.
drip. drip. drip.

i think of sickles and slick skin and laugh to myself.
about old stones.

while we drink, we speak of friction.

godflesh

sir, speak softly under lips of godflesh, for the holy roman empire knows not of beauty like yours, that i know i am the only one blessed enough to see.
go with them.
go with those angels who fly sideways so that the view of the sun won't ever be obscured.
fly with them.
branch wings from those tingling muscles.
sprout feathers as though your heart were growing outward.
go with them.
fly with them.
be sure, to say your prayers at night, even if silently, because you and i both know that no one is listening.
be them, just the same.

not too much.
i only ask that he call me, "love peach".

or something of the sort.
so that i feel as wanted as i need.

and he should look at me from across the river.
with eyes, that could only be for me.

big intentions.
not an ounce of fear.

nothing will cloud those perfect days.
when the trees are green, the sky is only blue.
and you won't have felt it necessary, the need to be away from me.

we'll both enter from the same road.
both plant our feet on the same earth.
breathe the same air.

only this time around, we'll surprise ourselves.

8ish.

Between foreign teeth, lay a tongue, setting forth no rules, no laws.
Faking innocence, in just the right ways.

Never once, did I feel trapped.


The right kind of hurt, at the right time.
Never saying why.
Never needing to explain.

Never once, did I regret it.


Intertwined like no time'd gone by.
Laying above. Beneath. Behind.

Never once, did I think twice.


Good graces working overtime.
Esteem nothing of an issue.

Never once, did I feel ugly.


Something of a faith, working me over.
Of love's long since lost...only to be found.
Eight or so later.

I have yet to frown or speak ill of what I'd done.

And I'm sure, that I'll refrain.

Starving.

The skies scream out for my blood.
The earth starves for my flesh.
Rushing that feeling…of living on borrowed time.
I am still a far excuse away from feeling good again.
We’re both protecting our hearts like a safety deposit box.
But my key just broke.
And neither one of us can afford a fucking locksmith.
I’m envious of those bitter angels of the night.
Streaming light from skin still going unbroken.
They’re damned.
And I am stretching my arms out to them.
But not reaching far enough.
To satisfy my growing hunger.