its no coincidence that one of the slang term for liquor is "spirits." (carat)
you're keeping those insects at bay beneath that nightgown of yours. those carnivorous fishes behind your lips. you read to me from books with indisctinctly shaped characters with names like "miss mischevious" or "mr. accountable." i woke up from a nap with the blanket around my face & mistakenly thought you were kissing me, for a moment. god fucking damn i miss you. here comes a candle. here it comes.
& also:
i just wanted to try to sort out my thoughts cogently, instead of with my usual mishmash of imagery utterly lacking context. there isn't even a boil that needed lancing. i'm just st. george shaking his spear. honestly, i'm just nervous about seeing jenny. i'm a fucking eighth (8th) grader asking a girl to dance with him. she's so amazing. how dew on spider webs puts stained glass to shame- that's what she is to other girls. where my palate was all black paint, she snuck in red. if my war on heaven is compass north? she is magnetic north, the way my heart is drawn. i've spent all of today realizing how completely in love i am with her. the romantic devestation she's wrought on my heart is no less than the bikini atoll test. she's in my brain like barbituates in heaven's gate's pudding. in the vernacular, i love her.
