he is not his desires.there is something about the violin curve of a jaw, f-hole smile lines and long golden skinny trombone-slide arms,he is not his desires.
that suggests in every boy's blooming mind a symphony.
and something about a comma at one end of softly smiling lips, suggesting secrets, dark book-flap hair, eyes a placeholder for that part in the story where she cuts slowly through flesh and cracked bone, love poems and promises,
to reach his eager heart and dispose of it, slowly.
all the love-broken words soaring in your head, teasing you, thrilling you, cannot help you now.
what we stare at in 19 lines.flip snake-veined hands typing madly in old-movie colours flip LIBRARY PARKING UPDATE gigantic and blue flip eighties face and eighties hair, laugh track fli guys announcing golf score with little headsets and sounding super-excited. fl Discovery Channel: Back To The USA f wavy shitty reception, vague porn movements between the crashes of static woman in off shoulder black shirt and pigtails indicating a wide-screen TV suggestively a twirling ruby in a grass-green spotlight a boy with muscles, tattoos, and a mohawk pounding on a drumset. black and wwhat we stare at in 19 lines.
fullas the sun is a shadow it spells out a series of wondrous and haunting tones. it breaks through my eyelids and tumbles the fire round and round and round and round and round in my bones.full
drops on my lips from the spray of the creek and the rush and the cold of the melted snow.
he whispers to me with my ears full of water and sun and the shadows, the rise of the sea. my hands full of mountain-tanned skin. my heart full of river-risen smile-soaked wonder-scorched sun-lit green gaze making me love him.
--
"I am altering the deal. Pray I don't alter it any further." ~Darth Vader
*goes on existing*
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