I am getting paid soon, right?

My essence as lines drawn from the ink of your shape-shifting blood, on the inside, I am always a new creation, in the shadow of your change, in the flickers of your heart, there I am the new sketch, the anima, the value. The icy vapour hissing in a cloud from my pores, milk chocolate ocean spread across my muscles recoils. State of emergency is declared, there's magic afoot, I can hear its colors shifting through the sea-tingled air. My eyes, re-survive as kaleidescopes in this school, as th...

wild milk iFlows from his internal lightning it shapes, it changes into the bone-crushing power of alone. It kills mothers and smashes them into the plaid of their dresses. I remember one mother, the lucrative fire made dollars out of her air-shredding screams and towers of lemonaded blood. Jesus snatched all the little bits and pieces of her up and made dolls for all the cancer-stick children. I think it's sad, neon bigotry who forgot me in the stark of my wide, wide desert. Pictures and fus...

heart green height of storms, bring me new pain that I may re-interpret it as the blood from the husk of my imagined self. that I might be shucked heart and cook away the rawness that kept me in the field, I am no more metaphor than the stalk next to me, no stronger than the foundation molesting my roots, nor more confident than the upside-down ocean I stretch toward. I am too tall to bend down and pick love up, heart, I'm very old My will bends farther than I can. I live post-bloom, waiting ...

you wire the dark's wounds shut with electricity, they scream and twist and tear against your loving, you keep wishing because wishes deify the death that heals life, that incurable. but none of this is somber none of it should make you scream, you are the surgeon, keep yourself and the skin together keep the dark intact and the wounds healing, shut light up into the imperfection of pain.

the heart is a cold stretch of sunshine. it is tainted the color of its own ego. a coffee stain of reality. but we can't be sad. it doesn't make sense to mourn the death of something that was never meant to self-fulfill. cold stretch of sunshine tying itself into knots over the crooked teeth of trees, accusing everything with its spindled explosion. this heart, this tree, this accusation. it isn't sorry for who it loves, it doesn't erase the places where memory made small burn marks. never ti...

It's strange how quickly this shiny immortality patinas, and I'm left struggling to discover what I once loved about it. I look up to see a naked dark between stars, a chill brings the warmth of this universal notion that occupation doesn't matter. I must've swallowed flame, a wild knowlege has its way with the directions of my feet, and I can't control it; control is that tumor removed. My cancer isn't like my father's, my cancer is mentality spreading, the attack of beauty as belonging on a...