Yes but then in the end, no.

On these days
of Grey insolence

I taste
the pailing
of humanity

We bleach into white washed walls
a sirens wail
strident against
the duff duff throb
of rap as it splatters against
the weave of your skirt

A pulse of sound
rippling with the breeze
to ruffle your hair

I dream of resurrection
as you buy the coffee

My sleek form
buried beneath worn
jeans and T shirt
you bought for me in Paris
from a man the color of coffee beans
his shining skin
like polished obsidian
cast upon the earth
a billion years ago.


The polystyrene cups
are too big for your hands
as you struggle to hold onto us


I am flying
shedding today
a serpents scaled skin
falling in tangles behind me

I know the secrets
how
Release is
when God comes
white clouds surging
as he fucks the sky
how
Agony
is love without surcease
a self perpetuation
scribing itself
on every thing we do

I utter farewell
in the language of birds
and you catch each sound
as it falls
my vessel
that never fills.

Press warmth into my hand
and I will
still accept