packing means more dress up.

by heytherewildflower


fashionbloggers are angry. or its fashionable to be mad. i am not sure.

Here are the ingredients for something

taking notice of the red morning sky
and Faulkner’s disgust

wee hours of the morning struck slowly
ooze of nightcold sweat
in the orgasm that couldn’t

perfect price for beautiful body
wicked slick,
fruit unburst against the dry lips.
and every dawn there is the waking
limbs dew stuck to the sheets
the spine and its echo of notches

familiar aroma of musk and orchid and animal

i could kiss your kneecap

i could tell you a secret

in the morning, listen to the marvelous shriek of an ambulance

big red cat prowling for blood,
this sound is the room you sleep in,
the room you sleep in is the space between an arms width
and the chest of a boy

outside, there is august sky dangling its birds

and clouds catnip of natural concepts
to bat with those garrulous eyes,
stilled upon something other, slight

light and darkness of speech torn asunder
by the eddy of breath
in the hollow we searched for ourselves
yellow set by red set by the face of a gazing silence