to solder silver rings that hold uncut rocks
as we sit by a gushing river
trying to scream songs louder than it's roar
- I've wanted to do that for a while now.
the grass is soft, so is your smile.
where do you get your tenderness from?
a collective chant of hymns rings in the air
and I grow fonder of the mountains.
my heart is tired
but you bring good to this Russian roulette of a life.
you don't write verses
but you make them with me -
so, I'll write for the both of us.
you let me own you,
sit you down and consume you
like the murk consumes a flickering flame.
there is a lot of damage
and silver ores
but I'll be tearing my lungs apart
and I'll be laughing.
my obscure vulnerability
smells like the fresh flesh of aloe vera -
looks funny when you rub it on your jaws
and render me transparent.
I won't perish without you;
I have been balancing my existence
on these cuisses fortes for nineteen years
but you're allowed to squeeze them like plushies
and have the last laugh
as long as you can afford to keep the tinted glasses on my nose.