Dear Impossible.

we shouldn't be doing this.
fragments of epiphanies  like brilliant blisters for your teenage temple.
a sacrifice of smoke slipping through the shallow shadows of atmosphere.
so much to fear here my dear.
so have a corona and loan me some tissue.
a new jersey slice of organ.
beating the senses of l.o.v.e. back into me.
(blank) right off, i'm a refuge.
i thought it was you that (blanked) me.

Dear Impossible,
please swim the seven seas to reality..
pick up your paintbrush and paint yourself next to me.

close/minded/dreamer

spiritually violent close minded dreamers. singing angelic.
delicately symbolic and anemic royalties leaking lucid thoughts to my lack of seeds.
it's a funny farm of misfit thieves bleaching there hair and bruising their knees. sunday morning thunder plundering across my brother's transistor. all the good girls aching for a whisper but all the ghosts are jaded and fade back into the coast.

it's good to be content when your soul has a hole and your patience is spent.
mom buys me violent hookers who seethe and snicker through the new york streets.
jet packs for teeth and sunshine on there soles. caught in a race, wrapped in the throws, soaken in woes.

your heart is a silly circus sorry for the slutty sodomites soaking up sweaty southern sunshine. just give me a field of watermelon and a salty syringe of forgiveness.