i want to burn my fingers
i want to lick your lips
its sensory overload season
and all i can see is your pale tallness
seeping from my view
i skipped the meeting,
i don't want to move up there
can't a woman be content
sitting naked with her friends,
hanging on branches
in the allusion of a tow
we all know each other
dwell in each other's arms and beds
and the same kitchen table
we are the food that sustains us
and the sunshine in our throats
i'm a seadoo in your saliva,
swallow please
i'd rather be inside
but for now you are my think thumb
i'll write down the name of everyone i love,
need, desire and collect them
in the corners of my skull,
morbid and lovely alive
write paint and sing to them
everyday, for because of them i.
you're close as grey
i feel you and you sound like
'hi, how are you?'