what are you wearing?

there's a triangle triading back to my pointed heart.
healing in sex taking more time than i want

oh fuck the busslights and ambulances.
just say it. i still love you. what does the rot say?

i feel like a cat that needs purrr, but i only want
one pair of hands. well, maybe 2. and there's a devil
coming my way. it's good that you're out of the picture now
loser in a blender, waiting for push.

let's see what shenanigans sex has in store for me.
i know where my heart wants to go and it's forbidden
love. do you think we could be again or do you want
to be gone from me, entirely? you said so on
new years eve and now, a scant couple months later
here we are again, smiling together wanting

each the other to be a different age. or maybe that's just me.
i could call you and find out but i don't want to
rather live with this hope less ness buried inside.

meanwhile the muse talks to me from across the bay
where jesus used to live. he wears a dark cape, his skin
dusky and slight. lips of the nile. how he wants
this complicated dirt. i stole that and a cherry
vanilla djarum from his pack. why can't i quit romance?


sure there's safety involved. keep the jumper cables
in the trunk for dead batteries and wraparound protection
in event of a serial killer roadside rescue.

i want to ask you if you really thought
it would have worked given the obstacles
we still face i want to know you would walk
thru the fire with me again. right now.
come on, take my hand.