Fuck Yeah Donte collins

Passion is a word that takes the entire body to pronounce.

Because your love is a plane ticket. You help me flee this body, that somedays only knows hurt

Do you still perform autopsies on conversations you had lives ago?

Origin, part 1 of many This poem begins in water and there is a mute women screaming from the shore line (it is your birth mother) and she is dressed in 14 years of distance and you think you can make out her words but it is difficult to mouth a dead name and she fastens a rope to her hip and she throws the end out to sea like a prayer but it bursts and fades into fog and adoption means one damp photo and adoption means always swimming towards new dry land.

People are my passion, energy is everything.

Desire: Don’t forfeit your wants. There is no shame in wanting their hands like a garden might want the rain. For your sake love, want.

“Like sugar, Like salt” This poem isn’t about bullets or smoke or how you left me like a shell to music the cement. It cannot capture the moment you left simply because you are still leaving. Like warm fog erecting each tree before forgetting the forest. And i know the imagery so far has been ‘almost’ like a loose thread teasing The needles mouth. excuse me. But this poem can only exist outside of my body in parts. Can only be named one letter at a time.

The surgeon’s hands are wet and red. The heart is, now, just a pulse-less meat. He concludes that love is a necessary myth and writes ‘love is to the heart what helium is to the balloon’

Let your heart shed, let your love become new.