you
have darkened my corners
with
your white mouth and
i
am starving for your life to
bleed
on to my autographed
chair.
sit on my taste and let us
recreate
the lower abdominal of
our
galaxy.
indigenous
to your coffee
rimmed
lips and these sunflowers are
moaning
again and again through
our
calligraphy winds. i am in
your
review and your voice is
tattooed
unto my soul;
i
forgot to tempt
us
into our nothing
meaningful
solitaire.
