Eight KissesEight Kisses by creightonwrites
You can call
it emptiness, breath, epithet, or oblivion
or love, or the thing we can't
touch, while in motion.
of your mouth in me like icemelt water,
like a creek,
If a Lion Could SpeakThe world churns this body,If a Lion Could Speak by creightonwrites
has been my whitish ipecac,
like a big tongue in the gut,
has made me hurtle words.
I am a refinery, a plant that shits beauty.
Im tired and frightened, that is depression,
Ive said it before. Nothing is everything is love,
and no great love for the man'inventing.
Touch me off, go back to the aether,
monkey fist, half-hitch, noose.
Love is a sandpaper, it smooths corners,
it bevels edges, it makes dust of us,
finally we go back to the wind.
Every ribcage is a ladder with rungs
of bone. Im glad Im thin
so I can count how high I have to go.
On the hunt, the devil grass hurts
my eyes. Id rather sleep,
Id rather yawn my children into petted being.
The thousand frights between
my lips have made such games
of ivory shaking in the voice of earth.
Down at the r