I drink the sweat that drips off my face as I finish a long day of ruling your world.
You never complain.
You only look at my stack of yellowing notebooks with greedy eyes and thirsty fingers. You want to rip the pages out and stuff them down your throat. You want me burning red hot under your fingers; you wanna consume my love whole (“Ya’ know, really get a taste of the artist”.)
My friends say I got a thing for boys who lay down on train tracks and bet God their lunch money that they’ll survive another day. They hang their heads in shame when I refuse to see the problem with that.
(They pick my body off of the ground and carefully use their eyebrow tweezers to take out the shrapnel that his words left in my body.)
I got knives with my name on ‘em. I got a pistol for a mouth. My body is weapon, babe, I can defend myself.
But, God, those scares on your arms are hot. And the way your knuckles graze my face so lovingly yet destroy so mercilessly shouldn’t turn me on as much as it does but…“Wow, when did this room get so hot?”
My temperature is 103.5 and I swear it’s my body trying to get him out of my system; I swear I can go to school; I swear I can keep going, don’t make me stop, don’t make me rest; if I rest I’ll have thoughts that will fill my brain that not even the strongest of antibiotics could treat.
Please don’t go, please, please, please, please, my dad will kill you but who cares? We’ll all die someday, let your last breath be captured between my lips as your hands slide up my hips and our eyes lock and our voices falter and the angels sing and the sunset shifts to sunrise and the first time becomes a promise of the next…and the next…and the next…
This ain’t a love poem.
I’M SUCH A LOSER; YOU’RE NOT EVEN REAL.
New idea for Pride variant things. Fancy spiral lollipops! It’s a more complicated coloring pattern than my other designs, so I just did an ace lollipop for now. If anyone really wants to see another flag done, then ask & I’ll do it for you when I can.