Whiplash Eyelash


Write a transcript
of the time I 8 hours
a week, ate air and Madras
beach salt mango, raw, with paprika

(I’m just a guess, a warm
shockwave. I would like to be held.
I would like to hold a semidecent
picture, something a little more
than empty analogies
in my gaze in the lake. I wonder what
desire memory constructs
into reality or cons into imagination.)

For fuck’s sake,
let’s fuck already, before I
am sorry, I think I have to go now
or grow now, I’m not sure,
but, um, can I kiss you, haha? Just
on the cheek,
or just a cute hug, yeah, those are nice

or just an honest conversation,

I think I just want to say bye,
because honestly,  bye is the easiest
thing to say honestly.

(Look:
people don’t lend themselves to
honesty or vulnerability, ok?

so I’m glad poetry does:) leave, like
a wish on an eyelash, kiss like your
lips are thirsty, believe in whispy
whimsical magic – and the power
of cliche! of good moments!
and laugh “haha I’m
glad I kissed you once or maybe
twice, how do you keep count if it
was all just one night?! anyway!
it was fun! Bye
for now or maybe
forever!” just laugh, like
whiplash.

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This entry was posted in Mental Health, poetry, Thoughts on Life, Uncategorized and tagged , , . Bookmark the permalink.

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