clown turbulence
glory gory? Gory glory?
I am your Biggest Fan. Not theirs. and not even theirs. Yours. Your Biggest Fan.
the best friend is the best friend is the best friend (so invite him into the used plastic bag). a cage is a cage is a cage is a cage (so deafen him with the song of a captive bird as it is choking on captive worms).
what are you? wearied wrinkled crumbs of lint, a pile of laundry in a bag? changed as we all have, not smoking so much, shorter hair, liking Dostoevsky, sharply aware whenever the cue words "Red Square"? invigorated, well-fed, well-loved, the family accepted your friends, connection deepened? refreshed, with winter coolness frosty reality while revisiting the street down which you and I up and down hot sticky afternoons last summer? ready? ready? Mad? mad? hurt? hurt? ego warrior steel jacket? Ego?! Ego?! long-lasting human stuff.
sirenheads, curfewsmokers. they want to start pushing alarm buttons on the window blinds, to reattach your eyelashes with stringy manipulations to the concentrated sunny dust. to maneuver the corners. your eyes corners, your mouth corners, your heart corners, your edges. I like my edge. it keeps me edgy. language weapon. I am a troubled boy. Because I like to destroy.
Well, what
is wrong
with a little
destruction?
hair colored smooth reflective beam pasta. too many mirrors in this room.
my hair stylist is colorblind!!!
(a very important development)
sunglasses framed to coordinate with toenails and flip flops' bottoms
outrageous but true. the world is on love. or is it just you. outrageous.
[belly stretch. cool moon sent laundry. changed as we all have, not smoking anything at all, shorter hair, status 'lush', instead of the older one which disintegrated into lint forcefully with a strict set of word-knives] language weapon, you asked for it.
Outrageous but true. Who are you, honey pools in my head from your perfect body dripping? used to bleed: sticky witchcraft drinkable from our veins couldn't get much higher. used to weep: birds and creatures soaking in the seas of salty and gradually accumulating floods. used to throw butcher knives like pins: thousands at a time, across the silky skin to scar to flake to become ugly and noticeably repelling. and then inside. And now - dripping with honey?!!
sticky sweet turbulence. god damn it, your make up never drips I can't even taste it I lick your face and it stays on your skin. not sure any more it is make up at all. white and red, naked nose, freckles, symmetrical, almost status suggesting is it not fake? is it you?. we are beautiful. forest of narcissi on fire. give me a clue for I am clueless. Bugs. What are your bugs
I am your Biggest Fan. Not theirs. and not even theirs. Yours. Your Biggest Fan.
the best friend is the best friend is the best friend (so invite him into the used plastic bag). a cage is a cage is a cage is a cage (so deafen him with the song of a captive bird as it is choking on captive worms).
what are you? wearied wrinkled crumbs of lint, a pile of laundry in a bag? changed as we all have, not smoking so much, shorter hair, liking Dostoevsky, sharply aware whenever the cue words "Red Square"? invigorated, well-fed, well-loved, the family accepted your friends, connection deepened? refreshed, with winter coolness frosty reality while revisiting the street down which you and I up and down hot sticky afternoons last summer? ready? ready? Mad? mad? hurt? hurt? ego warrior steel jacket? Ego?! Ego?! long-lasting human stuff.
sirenheads, curfewsmokers. they want to start pushing alarm buttons on the window blinds, to reattach your eyelashes with stringy manipulations to the concentrated sunny dust. to maneuver the corners. your eyes corners, your mouth corners, your heart corners, your edges. I like my edge. it keeps me edgy. language weapon. I am a troubled boy. Because I like to destroy.
Well, what
is wrong
with a little
destruction?
hair colored smooth reflective beam pasta. too many mirrors in this room.
my hair stylist is colorblind!!!
(a very important development)
sunglasses framed to coordinate with toenails and flip flops' bottoms
outrageous but true. the world is on love. or is it just you. outrageous.
[belly stretch. cool moon sent laundry. changed as we all have, not smoking anything at all, shorter hair, status 'lush', instead of the older one which disintegrated into lint forcefully with a strict set of word-knives] language weapon, you asked for it.
Outrageous but true. Who are you, honey pools in my head from your perfect body dripping? used to bleed: sticky witchcraft drinkable from our veins couldn't get much higher. used to weep: birds and creatures soaking in the seas of salty and gradually accumulating floods. used to throw butcher knives like pins: thousands at a time, across the silky skin to scar to flake to become ugly and noticeably repelling. and then inside. And now - dripping with honey?!!
sticky sweet turbulence. god damn it, your make up never drips I can't even taste it I lick your face and it stays on your skin. not sure any more it is make up at all. white and red, naked nose, freckles, symmetrical, almost status suggesting is it not fake? is it you?. we are beautiful. forest of narcissi on fire. give me a clue for I am clueless. Bugs. What are your bugs
beehive exploding stickily, unbearable, fills with sweetness, up the throat, enormous state of monstrosity, lava of honey consumes, even sweeter than the anticipation of THE KNOWN: the unknown. potholes for rain to puddle in, filled with sugary liquid all around your house on top of the hill
a vampire who is burning now in a forest fire. love him. he loved you. not her. you. he is your Biggest Fan. Not theirs, YOURS. Your Biggest Fan.
posted by Zosja at 8:34 PM
1 Comments:
aw thank you
me too
Post a Comment
<< Home