see this: a girl draped over her table with moths and green vines all thick and hot inside her, their lisping mouths poking up through her fingernails, their strong buds opening between her legs; she is tightening and turning softly in the chair, softlysoftlysoftlysoftly so that the library people do not hear the rustling of… Continue reading poem: virgin in the bookstore
Tag: poem
poem: seungri, burning sun
he was desperate: too in love with the madness in his soul that came with applause and with people laughingsmilinglaughing at him; the concerts halls smoked up with the devil and the afterparties full of hands clapping his shoulders because it was only him making it. and he had carved immorality into the drug-sick swaying… Continue reading poem: seungri, burning sun
poem: what do i call this
I guess I don't need to talk to him because I already know everything he would say. I know when he would roll his eyes, and that I would laugh; and I remember the few times I was charming enough to make him laugh; he threw back his head, all of his pretention going up… Continue reading poem: what do i call this
poem: lady gatsby
she briefly subscribed to The New Yorker and wore the free tote around to parties, the black handles draped slim over her arms and the fabricked bottom so obviously stamped THE NEW YORKER that it looked forced, especially when hung against her JC Penny dress; "It was clearance," she says, proudly, and people give her… Continue reading poem: lady gatsby
the last pavilion 