... it's because she can't look me in the eyes. as bad as i want to. when she's ready to be silent and still in the small of my palms, intricate like a whisper, she'll press up against me like she can [only] she can.
me and all my little records.
violence where no one gets hurt.
just the worst of intentions; the subtleties of raw skin.
the dream terrorist: laying sideways. only open for oxygen at that point. and i'm feeling the pressure applied from my incisors to my canines. escape shouts. gravity melts. evac. she just couldn't wait.
i kept my jacket in my car tonight.
on the jacket are pockets, and in the pockets are razors.
i've got the keys to my car.
i saw you tonight without color. your portrait moving our door frames. you spoke rounded, like they did in the 20s. i see you in every soft beauty. i found you. i found you. i knew what i saw when i saw you. we once had. we once had. i don't think i've ever seen you on a wednesday. let's blend into the daytime hours again.
i deserve this head of mine.