Making sense of modern art,
a heavy
perscription. Buy me my
painkillers and spike my
soda with
the shells of butterflies so
i can fly.
Tiptoe quietly in my
suicide note and hope
there isn't quicksand.
Whisper quickly those secrets
glued to your lips
the palms of your hands
every strand
of misery. Do you still sing?
Because my lyrics are silent
stagnant
suffering under me.
Coat your tongue in
my fingertips
glass pains and panes
love notes you never finished
and started too late
for carrying.
Trace my spine with
infidelity
and poise poses on tippity top
mountaintops.
and tightrope youself
to sleep
hello my lovely. i wanted to let you know that i have not forgotton you and i have been reading and examining and rejoicing in your poetry. i loove your first line and last stanza in this. i will give you more feedback when i'm not on my itouch...in the meantime i love you, write more!
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