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wedding kiss once, twicewedding by ~Away-From-Me
and a startling moment of intimacy
is found at the bottom of inhibitions,
in hands fumbling under hospital gowns.
this is how it all begins,
pulling off our clothes and running to the sea.
float upstream.
awake, you have been drinking for a while,
i feel twenty years your junior.
play. this is how it all plateaus,
grab my hands
and run.
in your wake
a strained silence, i wind it through the time.
i miss you. this is how we part. kiss once.
dive through the silence, you are calm.
i am pulling stains from tabletops, babyfood
and weeks of tears. i wonder what to tell my children.
i want to say that love is n
Pogonip The female condition looks like this:Pogonip by ~Away-From-Me
overgrown hedges, branches bent
in December. Stillicide
and hyaline is female condition,
silence from under a blanket
of snow, dripping to the ground
in stalactite.
Black ice and dangerous,
then, is heart of a woman.
It comes replete with sin,
mapped and stoic on thread that
has pierced it; never lose hold
over woman too long, she is unpredictable
as blizzard.
One must wind her back
back back, unweeping
and relentless through the tundra.
Male condition looks like this.
It is hiroglyphic pictures
depicting Gods she does not believe
and fruitflies that thrive
in her eyelashes,
fal
Nepenthe In the form of a body you disgust me;Nepenthe by ~Away-From-Me
You have to. We were born this way,
To lie in the road, naked and silent as deer
Brown eyes reflected in headlights
The last thing we see. We are rabbits
Blind and soft
Legs splayed and loathing each other
By night clouds
It is ceaseless. Night after night
Our lungs choke on exhaust,
Our bodies choke, we exhaust.
In the form of a woman I reluct you;
I have to. Yet we kiss in the stillicide
Over and over until our faces twist
And reflect us as insects
Hating each other in night clouds.
new york you are sitting innew york by ~Away-From-Me
central park and nothing
exists, but this.
it is blind, living
space between us, bridge
and severance once
thought to be all that
there was in the world to live
for. it can bring me
to tears and it does,
and all i want is for you
to write poetry
telling the world
that night did not exist.
it was cut short
by the sea,
by my fingernails digging
into your conscience.
Because nothing says love like your very own coffeemachine.
I really hope God blesses you and that you have an absolutely wonderful day. 
It happens. Get over it. 
Because nothing says love like your very own coffeemachine. It means your versatile! Or something equally awesome and cliche like that. 
) It happens. Get over it.
Sta.sh
