OPEN-BRAIN SURGERY

a lady is a (gothic manor in suburban conneticut)

& i am not lonely at all. myself and i, we're tall dark and lonely-lovely

together, she loves me

even with no face on.

she'd touched me even if there were bugs crawling out of pores in my skin

or living in my brain

or sitting on my irises. i see my smile in the mirror

And spiders too

she thinks my radium tears are most beautiful

when they eat their chemical way

through my throat. which is soothed by

teenage milk. which is chocolate and sweet.

i fill the world up when the world rests inside a glass cup

smash and i am purified

–

my love/crush on dizzee kipling/jaden smith (pre-hair cut) strengthens ever more in the dying light of day. like an orange, originally tangerine-like, then basketball-esque flame – such is my love. large and full and spilling. oh how it smolders, oh how it grows. one of these nights it will consume me entirely. that much is certain at all.  

im just messing lmaooooooooooooooooooooooooo he is really really cute tho. this poem is bad but hey! it's springtime! rebirth is on its way.