I hope Kate and Michael don't want to seminar about my work today
because I haven't written anything good.
And I feel like my mind is on overdrive
and it works much faster than my pen.
This music sounds like a Miyazaki film
and my blanket feels soft like stuffed animal ice cream cones.
And its so nice against my skin
that's so broken and battered
it aches with each step I'm at war.
I'm at war with my eyes,
lips, mouth, teeth, nose, and grin.
I'm at war with my voice and by legs
but I love your freckles.
But I'm so filled with conflict
and an over abundance overwhelming
my tear ducts until
they leave their factories in abandonment
for a crier's strike and a better paycheck.
And you're walking all over the walls
circling around my head
and I just want to kiss your face.
You're tall and beautifully dark
and take the shape of
every boy I've ever kissed.
And I want to touch your skin
but skin is weird
and I am weird
and you are weird
so lets do a Chinese fire drill
instead.
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