Wednesday, 14 November 2018

let go of your arms

and beneath the thin air of
stagnant kisses and potent cries;
we will live a longer lie.

thrive off our penalties where
swelling crystals will ground
our jasper toes;
anarchists never touched my
soul.

apart from these parts in world
we are freedom singing twirls
waiting to land. i pray for
you and i die for your
daily.


this will be my last poem

so that i remember. because before melted steel, there was hand-made, better, buttered words. we can decide if new spaces beneath me can qui...