The comet is me
The night is flooding
hitting us with ink tentacles
forgotten stars, so many miles afterwards
falling in love with our glares
why cannot summer just last forever
and winter hibernate, so that spring spreads its afternoons
on our romantic cheeks
whilst the crickets sing along
our inner chants of freedom
echo these oceanic times
always rhyming with restlessness
being happy because it’s happening
is too much to handle
so we prefer pretending we’re comets
burning the time-lapse of this passage
and summery days get flipped
like pages of a bestseller
yet to be lived.
Through the crack
as light filtered through the crack
our faces densely packed
with ragged-looking petals
were similar to a burgundy variety
of sunset
we were tangling our majestic spires
hands floating like flies
falling like spiders along our arms
a new day was starting, we were recovering
from the night
debating what season would come next
right inside our room
a sweaty summer of enveloped bodies
or a myriad of autumn impervious clouds
I decided your lips
would suit spring better
so I covered you with kisses
to replenish our rebirth
Yay
chromosomes triumphing
our chemical affinity
is indisputably tender
you inseminate my hope
a kiss seals a newborn
like abdominal cavity
you can’t do much
if night is enamored of fear
and the mucous plug of braveness
stretches to reach out the idleness
of chilled afternoons codified in cuddles
we close our eyes to grab
a nearby lagoon
your legs raveling out my frights
so that you can spoon me
with unrestricted fierceness
Crudités
The body is ephemeral
doesn’t smoke out its potential
yet it prevents us from dying
more than once in the same cycle
in the erroneous shape
that ages by yawning
the need for evasion
castrated by permanence
and the rebellious attitude
to fit an incongruous manner
in the jacket of bon ton
kisses challenge the escapade
of this hide and seek
life and death equally
makes us sick
like a spurious pregnancy
every time we swell gradually
we get promised Apocalypse
it turns out it’s a Genesis
the deep-rooted calligraphy of love
to bolster faltering steps
is named Poetry and nothing else
so slice your anger and fear
in practical crudités
make your life the best portion
prêt à manger
Dumpster Fire Press 