birds

there are days where i soak myself in your cologne, until i wake up intoxicated by your scent, and it reminds me why we do this, love you set my eyes on fire.

i.
you are the remainder of black bruises
that litter forearms and the porcelain
that lays in bathrooms made of crystal.

you are the basins in which i wash and
the flannel used to wipe away life.

you are purgatory and tainted sin,
all at the same time.

ii.
dark patches of missing memory line
my laboured breathing, you are fire
in lungs and holes in bronchi,

you are my downfall, love.

iii.
we are the fur of a wild-beast,
the broken bones of a small child,
the frayed remains of history,

and we are burning.

pray that the autumn leaves fall to cover
us in a haze,
for we shall never live like this again.

iv.
fold in, tuck and
one two three
fly bird boy,
you were not made to be captivated
by blonde manes or pepsi pupils.

fly and burn under the sun,

and you'll find me under you skin,
nestled within the cigarette stained
marrow of your spine.


hold our thoughts in your heart made of
twigs and dead stems, there we are celestial.