11 3 i've been sitting underthe same tree for days and nowthe leaves are leaving and nowthe bark is peeling andis this what they talk aboutwhen the sparks all flickerout?i've been stoned enoughtimes to be called a martyr andmy mind's been getting hazylatelyhow do they expect me to answerall these prayers?i'm not a saint, i've just gotno grasp on sin.
9.7 i am but a weary passengerwondering whomight be missing me - nobodycan tell whether this is just a famineor an infestation,it's strange how that works - here,maybe you are lying beside meor above mebut i am suffocating - love'snot one of those things that you can forget easily, not quite like - me.
absences but this isn't just distanceas in space, not just distance as inwhispers of,"i can't believe how far youare from me, i miss you" -this isn't just distance in the way that roads seem to spill over hilltops for years,stretching like skin across knucklesbut never ending, no.this is the kind of distancethat isn't seen but instead felt,that isn't marked by miles or gas money and can't be pinned in two spots on a map with red thumbtacks:this is not hearing from youfor daysand knowing you haven't noticed.this is wanting to have youbeside meand knowing you're just fine alone.this is the kind of dist
tigers in cages there's a leopard under my stomachand a boy above my back, feral creatures marking my peripheries. everything is made of hands slipping, curling, gripping my thighs, of cold glass on my forehead, of two sets of bent knees and too much confined heat and...there's a blue gleam from the front seatthat reveals sweat on my spine and dark curls sticking to my shoulders. the moon comes and this space is crowded, secret, shrouded by not-quite-midnight, by four locked
resurfaced (sapphire suns) the thing is,if it had been different,through cigarette-thin lips would've come my name, wrapped in the scent of amber gin.on wooden floors we'd be lined in lightagain, laying so close. not touching.if it was a cry for help,nobody was really listening, were they, noteven your father, and so you left,left in more ways than one, and i only heard youwhen it didn't matter anymore.the thing is,you've been gone from my mind and heartfor years now, i've lost count.days have been more fleeting than my own inhales, my own exhales, or at least it would seem.the thing is, z,time passes and changes.my stars were your
Sta.sh
It's AWESOME!!!
