1,000 calories away from what I once was

Black licorice is an acquired taste but sometimes, so is laughter. Sometimes we are asked questions that resemble excavators, digging at the pulp in our brain. You want to know you want to know you want to know. The rain can be a weapon or a home invader and if you fear the sound of its haunt, my body can become umbrella-like. I hear your traveled torso blushing and it is a bay like your homeland, salty and oceanic. Humans interview each other to let go of costumed memories. How about I tell you of the time I lit a year of my life on fire outside of my studio apartment and snorted the air which reeked of battery-operated oxygen. How about you tell me why I cannot seem to stop wondering how wonderful this all is. Two days ago, rain and beer-battered poetry and Colorado lovers lusting on each other’s bones and days before that: a trombone and ukelele duet and an opossum screamed into the air by a white man and you called my skin alabaster. 


Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s