KEEP ME BREATHING

i unfurl beneath your touch like a flower,

under the sun,

or butter pooling and sizzling in a hot pan,

trying to spread itself entirely over that which warms it.

i’m all melted goods baby,

wax-work museum in a heatwave,

and your hands are the hot, hot sun,

but your eyes are the breeze.

ii. famine

how I thirst for you,

hunger like the sharp pain of a nail,

pointed and running down your cheek.

my stomach is crying out like a wolf,

my limbs feel weak and I’m shaky,

your arms are too far from here for me to bare,

I need your lips, your hands,

your hair.

iii. attention

not to say that I am a slave to your touch,

but I never want for much else more,

and I always bleed for you, honey,

but only in my sweet way.

I break my bones like hard candy to get your,

attention. did it work? I’m not evil I’m just,

a victim of the times. but you know that.

you understand.

It’s the Basic Ball! A ball for the rest of the LGBT-cuties.

At this point, Julius Caesar is kicking ass, taking fucking names all over the Mediterranean, like, Julius Caesar is like, “What’s poppin’? Fuck it, they can get over it.” And Cleopatra is into that, like, she’s like, “Ooh I’m feeling this.”

Me from now to November:

Objects strewn about A room that is familiar But no longer feels like Home. Stuck between two Places but about to Leave both for a Third. The anxiety of everything Out of it’s place Cannot be avoided, it’s Unsettling. Out of place, Do not belong here, Out of place, Again.