Wednesday, August 1, 2012

Crayon Colored Gums

Outlines of smiles
crayon colored gums,
thrashing undercurrents
reminding me I'm num.
Cracking up, dishes, my crippled back.

magnetic fields tune in,
"you've got Strange Powers"
when the palm of my face is painted paisley
tears in canals of under ripe age,
my face is a slice
behold my minds pie
under stand my furrowed reprimand,
these remixed messages and spastic brows
only his memory can bite.

 My mouth follows words like a sit com actress,
film reels in my eyes
photoshopped one stop editing to vintage setting;
two bicycles in the quarter
because falling in love is cinematic,
my mouth flickers like a faulty stop light
 waiting for me to judge my emotion
 the sardonic slap stains on my ass,
or the why some mangy thug,
 pitbull tore up the red velvet rug,
on the cradle of an illegitimate son.
I can feel his bicept against mine, lazy breath on the back my neck
my eyes barely shut,
"Did you hear me?"
People make a lot of noise when they're trying to be somebody
"I was spacing out"
In the closet, unpoetic,
I wish I meant I was gay.
I'm tearing up this next slice,  it's a flash flooding sequence,
 slow montage with 'our songs' softly blare,
"50 million lovers kissed eachother and imagined David Bowie at their wedding,
25 million divorced "
my prose turn sour as I dribble beauty out the corner of my lip,
pruning my face, whole pie's cried out

 pages blank with fury,
such a twisted cover,
"a wrecked, irresponsible, thrilling delight"
"a shattered mirror in letters"
"gluing a mother and a child"
a me mosaic his pupils dilated
"two thumbs up,
it's hard typing foresight."

A Virgin Review Of Mardi Gras