screamerI am sure that everyone has a bedscreamer by FallingAsleepTonight
that taught them how to be afraid.
pushed gently onto her sister's
"it's been six months", she says,
her blonde hair over her blonde chest and hands
my perfect zipper.
sometimes when I wake up I still smell her carpet
and my failed teenage sweat.
it's been six years
and that moment still shines like a favorite painting
of war and broken bones.
maybe the sidewalk is where you learned
or the hallway of a party
I've heard the stories-
shining like your smile shining
because I am a man I know
I am not allowed to feel like this
like my body is the knife and curtain
my insides are rags.
your shining meaty canvas is the perfect template for
some hands on jackson pollock-ing-
I want you to kiss me and know I taste precisely like
a stripper from Texas
three young men in a king-sized basement
gin-vomit on a garage door
true love and disney love.
open your shining meaty heart.
let my brunette arms down inside your hips.
I am the slic
ode to my dwarf umbrella treeyou are bentode to my dwarf umbrella tree by FallingAsleepTonight
have overgrown your pot entirely.
survived shots of vodka,
twenty foot drops
days of my absence
your roots grow up, out, and green now
schefflera arboricola my name is homo sapiens
you feed off my breath and I yours-
some constant drowning engagement.
when I pour you water I always drink
and I think it's ironic that my name in our language means "wise"
as it is you that has learned
to survive with me.
no red clothis this what the light is supposed to feel like.no red cloth by FallingAsleepTonight
my feet are cold and I'm hungry
I put on piano music when I am alone in my room
because we all know that it is beautiful.
when I close my eyes I imagine my bed as a raft
in the open ocean.
my bed is draped in black blankets and blue scarves,
it is a blessed gypsy wedding
me and the sea.
a love of my life is leaning on one corner.
her feet are mysteriously dry.
burnt yellow light through my flat glass clouds
and the ocean is calm, as I picture it to be
I sit crossed-legged in the very center
because I believe the water is cold.
cold, salted, and shining
from her voice on the edge I hear her say
a lot of people imagine this
and the scarves in the weddings are supposed to be red.
I push her in.
I'm trying to be funny
she hits the floor and screams
22, Oregonian, college student studying nothing close to poetry.
Note me if you'd like to talk, because I like to talk.
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