II.


Most Lips Are Paraffined & Luke Warm
I thought your shirt was really a leotard 
Does anyone still wear those 
Everything was purple or so it seemed

Your mouth like wet nylon surprised me 
Your legs made of fleece

The definition of pencil skirt

Fleece & nylon peel my skin

So I kept peeling until all that was left was lace 
Hopefully when I finish you won’t exist
This could be so wholesome, so bourgeois, but it’s a cloud of moths in a library, a ball of caterpillars in a tree, a swarm of gnats in the garden. There isn’t a clear narrative structure to real life. No beginning and no middle and so far, no end.


III

Why Don't You Get Rid Of Someone Else For A Change
When you wear glasses I feel like you’re a mirror only because in a tiny way you are 
The light sources in the room with you freak me out

& shadows have so many shades

This room feels like it’s collapsing      I don’t know what that means

Do you think I should sigh more often
Heavily breathing the way you do before your voice breaks & commands beautiful diction 
flowering over my skin into my pores & up my throat
&

O the way it swaggers thick out my mouth


 
 
 
 
 
 

You told me to dust so now it’s dusty

Don’t tell me to explode my syntax it will do that over the next three hundred years 
All the safe words
will rearrange themselves
No one is required to fake anything, though they are addicted to faking. Their junque paroxysms shake the room. Counterfeit climactic all over the sheets.