My phantom… made of atoms… born from a woman’s womb just like me. We were ignorant, but blissful… no sight of any missile coming for our throats – guess that’s how the story goes. My phantom… once my anthem… singing on a living room couch nightly. Now taxes, taste, and tattletales some- how got in […]Read more "– will we be? –"
Where is the point of no return on this road of riches made from rags, refunds for our excessed bags, us two existential fags? We flash warning signals, giving tingles, yet we mingle with our eyes on this path, looking to make love last, so why run away if the best may indeed come? But if we […]Read more "– why run away? –"
Through text, you told me, unfolding truth from your hot veins, that reins could ease a bit if I modified my- self-just-a little bit… and through text, I nodded, had gotten down on that cold slab, a jab I took for love and to apply real help-so-I could commit, but between drinks and drunken tears, […]Read more "– will you stop me from dreaming? –"
Yes, the colors of the on-again/off-again strands woven into your mane are a much-welcomed touch to your aesthetic and to the world’s. Your fins, at times made of spandex, other times made of cotton, are fluorescent and a foreshadowing of the songs hidden beneath your depth. While your voice may not be […]Read more "– mermaids are real –"
I play pretend in my realm of Technicolor daydreaming. On the schedule this evening, the compelling saga of two foreigners, aliens to the Earth, plotting against all odds to seize it for themselves. The tag team engages in secret language, coded wording known only to them. They scheme… they conspire… they send kissy-face and heart […]Read more "– darling & handsome –"
You are greater than good… I just wish I had better words to frame you. Portrait misunder- stood… a wild child, but I don’t want to tame you. ~ You give me something to write about, talk about, type about, sing about, scream and shout out my mouth. You give me someone to dream about, without doubt. […]Read more "– something to write about –"
Why didn’t I think of this be- fore? Hell – why didn’t I just think? Stop wasting my time on lust and crushes; start creating my own sweet boo thang. If I’ll be distracted, let it be by my creation, a beautifully flawed delight, my imagined sensation. ~ You shall be named Oswald, not much shorter than me, with […]Read more "– imaginary –"