Shadow bass.


New.

You’re so new to me.

I once tripped my tongue between your teeth, and just before you had a moment to speak, I’d sweep you off your feet, and tell you how much grief I had before you made me so glad….watch me hold peace. Make me happy, whomever you are, you make me glad to look at lady bugs flying, and people dying all around me; smile at my shadow….

Sure, do whatever you want, I just need to sleep, and your arms speak to me, such a cool shade to see…I don’t care what your name is, just hold me, and promise to never get famous. Coax me in a shadow so dark, even matter’ll get jealous of our spark. .. . .

‘O…….

What do you want to think about?

Tell me who’s thinking of those times that passed…..I’ve never felt so green…never inhaled such trash……but I appreciate the lies, feel like I’ve died, and every vein in my arm exploded all over the city streets, and little creeks, carried my blood for all to see, see……I can vanish between your feet…..under your thighs, liquid movements on the rise….and my lips,to…..you? Never surprise.

What sand particles hold us together, what universal feather tames our weather….messy, we’ll never get it together, but that’s emerald, we create our own…..

Own time in mind.
Give me mine.
Give me a heart.

 

I don’t want anything.

These words are not for you.

But we……..

..”What…kissed in front of a church?”

“Yeah, we’re not religious, but I trust you….”

“If I trust you…um…come here”…

Tell me I belong….

but what you should really do is…………

Tell me how we hate us, because it could never amount to how much sweat we’ve already mustered up, ahhh fuck…what is love? What is this game we play, with my hips pressed against yours huh? Huh?

Huh?

Ahh…ah..ha….fuck…..how did we end up here from a pizza shop, to being vegans growing our hair…..oh my…..my….dear…

“Baby………….I…I hear bells……I hear every cry you’ve never made when scraping the algae off the bottom of the wells…”

Why…..why would you….be by my side….

p

r i

d….

e.

Find the light.

Find the light.

Let’s kill the sheep, and practice how to speak. Thirteen feet on the meek, we will eat.

-Richí

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About Oil Underneath

I drink glasses of cold water.
Aside | This entry was posted in Poetry and tagged , , , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

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