When my D died I lived in Louisiana. Or maybe in Russia, Brjansk. Memory disappoints me. I peed in bottles that you destruct with a limp lazy cock.
I WANT TO scream from the highest BOOK. that I HATE. THE WORM.
IN MY HEAD.
I ripped up a page of the diary that
remembered me like the 27th from
two years ago.
Yesterday evening the stage was one
A kiss in the snow, a kiss in the pub.
Pick me up and let me dance.
Sky blue wall that I bite and spit up on a cyan dish where I cried liquids. I have a cold. I should grip your ass boy. I should squeeze your breast girl. Boys at the park run. They trip. A cigarette on the highest branch.
Small room for rent. Small hotel room tiny tiny. When the wind is blowing, the fall gets inside. When you breathe, while I touch you, I sing a song about winter. Jump out of bed.
You had a songbird and you were different from the pile // on the night table an apple went off. You tried to do the tightrope walker on Sunday morning but then you realized quickly that it was nothing special. For your anniversary put more wish candles than how old are you on that apple.