Two-hundred and Thirty: Secret

Wowee, youth in a shot, let me
teach you how not to be mature.
Sure, I can assure you that
everything, oh everything,
will be alright but do you
mind if I lie to you? You are
the shade and I am the sun
and I would like to beat you.
Beat you until my name
and all its grievances
are written on your chest
like tattoos. Could I do that
to you? Would you let me?
Would you let me eat you?
Devour you like some
emotional cannibal.
Shh! Secret: I am
logically crippled,
a whipped dream wet
from disaster, after
anything that could
make my heart beat
a little faster.

Polaroid Poetry. Dashing out for some real shots! Tequila, I’ve missed you!


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I drink, I laugh, I smoke, I write.

7 thoughts on “Two-hundred and Thirty: Secret”

  1. i completely totally share your secret. It shouldn’t be so impossible should it? I love the way you’ve expressed this. Fuck, – “after anything that could make my heart beat a little faster” – this could be my tagline! I might borrow it if that’s ok 🙂 xx

  2. I agree with shewas. I feel exactly the same way – the pulse quickens and I’m a goner, lost to whatever… or whoever… it is that has tricked me. Again.

    Would it be okay to say that you are my favorite poet right now? Seriously?

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