Photo by Jose Conejo Saenz
#brushyrteeth
her smile is as yellow as my hair.
meet me [drunk] at the next AA
meeting. there’s something about her
smile that makes me want to go to the
bar & drink myself into blackness. ah,
reconnection w/ the gods in my heart –
pissed religion. “hold my fucking hand,”
she whispered softly in my ear [tongue
grazing the paved-over canals]. just
enough to sober me up. i’ve never been
more ecstatic to see Christ’s face in my
hummus. but then she spread the Holy
on her pita & swallowed [one third of
God in her stomach]. “what a mansion,”
Christ scraped onto the mucous walls of
his new home. if i were in his shoes, i’d
choose Ascension into Heaven over
Descension into Hell ten times out of ten.
#callingallcopcars
the girl of my dreams posts pictures of her
overnight jail cell to instagram. it’s been
that kind of year, hasn’t it? the sunrise steals
her breath thru the bars [something i can’t do].
exhaling my anxieties, poisoning the air but
scrubbing my lungs free of nicotine. she’s
a junkie & i smoke seventeen cigarettes a day
to keep up in the death race. i can’t imagine my
life w/ out her, i think. but she sticks the needle
in the sliver of my vein & i miss getting stoned
just because. “all this romance is such a drag,”
she yells as i nod out.
her smile is as yellow as my hair.
meet me [drunk] at the next AA
meeting. there’s something about her
smile that makes me want to go to the
bar & drink myself into blackness. ah,
reconnection w/ the gods in my heart –
pissed religion. “hold my fucking hand,”
she whispered softly in my ear [tongue
grazing the paved-over canals]. just
enough to sober me up. i’ve never been
more ecstatic to see Christ’s face in my
hummus. but then she spread the Holy
on her pita & swallowed [one third of
God in her stomach]. “what a mansion,”
Christ scraped onto the mucous walls of
his new home. if i were in his shoes, i’d
choose Ascension into Heaven over
Descension into Hell ten times out of ten.
#callingallcopcars
the girl of my dreams posts pictures of her
overnight jail cell to instagram. it’s been
that kind of year, hasn’t it? the sunrise steals
her breath thru the bars [something i can’t do].
exhaling my anxieties, poisoning the air but
scrubbing my lungs free of nicotine. she’s
a junkie & i smoke seventeen cigarettes a day
to keep up in the death race. i can’t imagine my
life w/ out her, i think. but she sticks the needle
in the sliver of my vein & i miss getting stoned
just because. “all this romance is such a drag,”
she yells as i nod out.
