Wednesday, November 23, 2011

day 122

i sleep on broken in cushions
  branded leather
it keeps you warm
 like fourth of july kisses
   like fireworks
    it keeps you warm
masterpiece
to have sewn this together
someday
  your hands will grow as big as picasso's
 with more imagination and talent
you will brand warmth onto leather hearts
 with just the flinch of an elbow
   kissing girls with macaroni wounds
this is her heart
 this is how you'll mend it
  piece it together with a master key,
a master's needle
it is noble
and she will sleep on broken in cushions
  formerly broken in by past lovers


   have you ever wondered what she thinks of your past


no. 
  yes. of course i have.


i sleep on set in wrinkles
on these brand new
  comforters. i hope for comfort
someday
  these wrinkles won't feel so set in
we will be
set in stone,
anchoring me to the bottom of your heart's chains
  she is still tied to you
puppeteers play tag in New York city
parks.
I park my car to listen
  she still speaks your name
    with googly melodies.
she will piece together the dialect of Mr. right now
  with the same rhythm to your heart's song.
  this is where funny bone bruises
  turn deadly. It is not
fun to watch a sprouting love
die.
overdose of numbers up to
1
2
  3 million sheep.
They sheepishly grin tonight.
  choke on  your Zs
y
 X.
   play example of bad past and reoccurring nightmares
 she holds me like sleep paralysis
  she is the demon behind my happiness
everything is wrong right now
 it scares me


have you ever wondered what demons are holding her back?


no.
i haven't.

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