poems

Something rotten in my marrow
has become dislodged, sailing seas of blood
and sticking in my heart
balanced like a knife.
The weight of dead skin
drags my feet
the syrup drips from my eyes
and my eyelashes wilt like petals.
Leave your door unlocked,
for the love of God,
leave your bedroom open.
I'm blind and can crawl no more.
I'm coming for the cure.
I'm coming
for the cure.

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She paused in the open door
at the house party
Breakbeats and yellow backlit
And I swear you can know a girl
By her impossible silhouette.
Impossible legs
her hair clouds flowers blooming
wrapped in impossible caramel
her eyes maybe blue maybe brown coffee.
It was too dark to tell.
She hustled up next to me on the couch,
hustled the gas station attendant
and jumped on the trampoline
like a maniac.