Origami Kisses… a poem for my pseudo gf
I blow you origami kisses across the sea
That holds our islands apart.
Paper birds and dragonflies with wings
Made of doilies
Swoop and flutter in a pastel madness
Making the distance closer
Bringing my love to your hands.
When you brush away
Your hair and look up to the sun
They will swarm to you
So catch one between your palms.
You will open your fingers and a small, fragile
Bird will peer up at you
Under your power and protection.
Be gentle, now
For you are holding my heart.
Swallow Me Whole
I could be your Prettiest Nightmare
Your Darkest Ecstasy
If you’re on time, you’re already too late
I’m friends with the fad-smuggling hipsters
who brush their teeth with sips of coffee
and the ever-present chain-smoked cigarettes.
I’m friends with the rowdy boys
who break into houses, steal beer and
write dirty messages on the walls
with scrabble pieces and bottle caps.
I’m friends with the restless, sleepless,
dream-filled, coked-out trend-breakers,
who hold fashion shows in empty warehouses
and compare photographs of the meat-plucked,
strong-jawed, mussed-up models
over a bottle of old crow and a perfected joint.
I’m friends with the sunken-eyed,
well-worn, scraggly-dressed girls
who roll from one bed to another, but leave
no vacancy in their blues-singing hearts.
I’m friends with the homeless myriad,
abandoning the parents who abandoned them first,
choosing couches over comfort,
pleasure over paradise, daydreams over
the mindless drone of a million drowning bees.
I’m friends with the thrill-filled, sleep-stilled
raging, roaring, riff-raff alcoholics,
pacified by pills and the sweet surge of psychedelics.
I’m friends with the fad-smoking, chain-breaking,
coke-dreamed, ever-broke, thrill-dressed, broke-
jawed, scraggle-worn, smoke-raffed, well-mussed
with the hand-made, thrice-owned t-shirts
the wine-stained lips, the pockets
holding naught else but pocket-change.
who left ten minutes ago
looking for a new kind of trouble.