I had so many purses
of night
that i couldn't sweat her.

I couldn't feel warmth
even in the embrace
satan
made
when he held me
in his sweater.

Hell could catch me for a thousand reasons,
I might be a sinner,
I might **** a man if need be.

But my heart
is made from a century
of hate.

A century of racism,
telling me that the white girl I loved,
was probably getting *****
when we ******
and made love
on the side.

So what can I say,
when I go on journeys
against Hades,
trying to pull life
from the depths
like Orpheus' stupid ***
couldn't do
for
Eurydice.

I'll never do it again,
this is where
the heart the begins.

In hell,
trying to make
sense
of the devil
and calling her
to make amends
for my sins
with girls
with a ***** smell like vanilla.

Blandness is a disease,
I can **** a thousand of them
with ease.

Ease is the son
of lazyness
and I've gotten careless.

I used to love
the ripple
of her.

I Cherished
placque suns.

I walked amongst
the withered oaky clouds
reaching to the earth
in capillaries
of lightning.

I made
****** on journeys
in the night
to the
licquor store.

I could take refuse
and morph it
in my hands,
because they were
her
hands.

She was the gravity of neutrinos,
I spun
and
spun,
and threw off layers,
as her bra
lay on the floor
and the laces
of her ******
lay
whitely
in the corner of the room.

I could've been anywhere
in those final seconds,
the club with it's thousand
orbitals of dancing brilliance,
the park
with it's millionaires
of hate,
the senseless
desert
of my
heart.

I was in the rainforest
feeling the universe
in droplets,
and my pores screamed.

Destruction
is something to reminisce over,
and I moan
like a cat in the night
with it's broken leg.

I moan
like a dwarf star,
getting smaller
and
smaller.

*******
i miss you.

*******
I wake
up
and
it's the terror
of a famished
heart.

Could I cry
a thousand
times?

Could I have more
eyelashes?

Could I learn to play the banjo
and finally
make a sound
like
raindrops?

the heart is not an easy
thing
to
devour.

The black of darkness
is a black
that's not easy to conquer.

And you have
brought troops
with superior artillery,.

the heart is not an easy
thing
to
devour.

The black of darkness
is a black
that's not easy to conquer.

And you have
brought troops
with superior artillery,.

"You're drunk
you
need it." - Lykke Li.

Don't puke
this time,
make it the seed
instead of the giving earth.

The earth pukes in fire,
and that hurts the belly.

Trust me when I say
I'm stupid,
and that I'm staying.

I have been with Heather,
I have been with Carolyn,
I have been with Gnat,
I have been with Yolanda.

I have ****** all of them.

Every single one
has not touched
as fatally
as you
and you have undone
the ropes
inside of me.

The unbound package
is
disaster.

It signals the death of promise.

But it gives in the lighthouse
of love.

I cross the fog,
I trample
the destinations
of rain,
I laugh at thunder.

No storm is greater than
you.

So replace me,
disown me,
hate me.

I love you,
and that will not leave
in the night,
like werewolves
after dawn.

The winds
only
whisper
when
I'm
drunk.

The tea leaves
wither
in the soup
only when
I'd had a few.

They curl
like disgusted fingers,
or fists.

I scrounge
my pockets.

I litter in Marlboro butts.

I can't go to sleep
without
the biting panther
of the drink.

Those lemon eyes
make sense
by nine
when I've had a few sips
and my lips
are filled with their tears.

Do you know
the forrest of my heart?

Do you understand passion
that destroys
as it grows?

This is kudzu
this licqour.

This is meaning
this licquor.

This is happiness
this licquor.

This is the dissolution
of my anxiety
and fears
this licquor.

I will end
on a sour note
and say
that I cannot sleep.

I cannot sleep
when I am sober.