Sunday, November 8, 2009

legs lit bright with the soft peach fuzz of winter
the fall of blonde, the autumn of red.
the growing strands that tickle the air around when i walk
all small and simple things, feminine and shadowed
wisps of cigarette smoke, the dip of a waist
golden freckles splattered over porcelain.
you are the greatest creation

and i am the sun that marks your bedroom floor

Monday, November 2, 2009

hold on, yoko, yoko, hold on

got this hopeless feeling lodged in my chest
and i hope you read this
keep pulling at my hair hoping someday i'll stop
and i hope you read this
i feel as if i'm diving back into the warm darkness of a mistake
but i want to see
but i want to hold
at the end of the day

(but i miss everything else)

will you hold my hand?
i hope you read this, boy
(will you forgive me?
i hope you read this, boy)

oh, fuck, i need to stop being so serious.