Stuck

Perfume pouring out of the neck
Sunscreen melting with the sweat,
fingers like meat slicer, hair like dandelions,
every day is a war coming.
Between missed periods and gunshot silences.
Hey, you! Do you have a god?
I want to thank her for this city,
which every ounce of me hates,
but I always end up dancing on the streets in the music o the traffic
And I always end up dancing on the footpaths in the jazz jeopardy
of the winds,
I want to thank her for the wind
and the water,
chlorine-stung eyes would like to say Amen to this holy water,
this is the story of a certain someone tip-toeing between the timeless classics
someone crying with plum eyes
and laughing with a cherry mouth,
this is the story of a song stuck between too many boy bands.
this is me with a stained lip,
stained with dirty dreams and the trash I’ve kissed
wandering while wondering, what a lethal proposition!
collecting words and poems, filthy as can be
let the shoe get muddy, it’ll fit, you see
and let the wild unleash
run so fast that you trip and fall,
build a home inside,
love so loud that the hate comes crumbling
hurry! find someone else’s god,
I want to thank her
For not saving me.
Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Please log in using one of these methods to post your comment:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s