Third Party

The glass amber liquid,
like honey,
half melted, half dripped
out her eyes and down her cheeks
until it pooled into her mistaken collarbone,
where it began to strangle his throat
and envelop him entirely,
where it began diffusing into his pores
and cutting out his eyes -
seeping into his bloodstream,
and running like a new family of deer through his veins.
The blue that froze in his arteries,
was replaced with a liquid gold,
similar to that of cocaine and satisfaction.
The air he inspired was glacier,
the sentences he exhaled were green.
And even when he held his breath,
he could not stop the raspberries and lemons
from festering in his throat,
and dropping gently into the color of her hair.

The recycled wind chime is still spinning,
with this world.
And the exterior air conditioning unit is still spinning along with the low income scholarship program of Stanford.
The sun, however, is only synonymous with the fire in Springville, for they,
are thriving in this new warm filter of illumination,
and depressing all the residents of Colorado.
And even then, there's always the question of: Is the air what's causing cancer?

Let your hair grow long.

We've had the best time we've ever had

Nature, is man-made, too, you know.

There's a faded tan, abandoned wife-beater to my right that might as well have been purposefully lost.
And a tree branch about to puncture my left kidney.
Mosquitos hovering, above the water that they know is theirs for only a moment more,
And 32 shooting star wildflowers that are facing down because the sun is about to as well.
And many fish, I'd assume, in the river in front of me that no one's taken the time to measure

ahem; we do things, too

I truly do, have the prettiest friends.

hi.

I really, really love these.  

Party people

The Grecian dress draped across her frame,
flattered her.
As did,
the champagne
that oozed from her eyes
when a question was asked
in regards to her lack of love.
So she sang, to everyone
about why she felt the way she did about not feeling anything at all.



(To the person that will read this, it wasn't consciously written about you. And it isn't, so don't worry)