Shipwrecked.I stayed up all night painting your face so I could beat the birds to crying your name and the world would shudder and shake in two syllables once the first glitters of dawn skittered across the horizon and skipped across the tips of your blindfold eyelids;I stayed up all night losing my sanity so I could on auto-pilot put my body to work and my hands would find a natural rhythm in the swoop and crash of heat transfer bobbing up and down in the waves of your skin;I stayed up all night dancing so I could prance through the doors of your dreams and I would step and spin without your guidance until your eyelashes fluttered awake with pride singing and our distance would hum along with the song and close in;I stayed up all night lighting fireworks so I could pretend I was a sailor lost at sea and you would find me shipwre
SurrealismThree a.m., andGod is in my bathtubagain—sipping whiskeyhallelujahs;backlit bya freshwater moonin the mother-of-pearl sky.
She Called Herself MidnightMy vixenthe raven childebony slick. She sucks on clove cigarettes,pausing to cough out flies and carbon. She's as ugly as she's ever been,gilded from glue and obsidian. Black harpy;darkness rupturingfrom raw meat.