Sunday

lovin you is easy cause you're beautiful

you'd like to love an unblemished vessel
(would that you were, o skin, unwritten)
you want unscorched earth b/c you
don't know how to walk without burning
i know you; i know that's how you'd like to think of me
but i can't call myself someone who loves you
and allow this untrue
nonetheless i'd like to
to give you what you seem to see.

don't you ever wanna look up and find someone
seeing you


the more you love people the more varied and beautiful they become. we are so lucky to be capable of witnessing that alchemy. the more you see things, the deeper they swim in you. and. if you let yourself live in your obsessions, take the things you love out of space and get so close you are wearing them...that is how spectacular creatures come to be.

this is not all coming from some place of impermeable naivete, because somewhere is the fear that all that i imagine-love only exists there, in that transitory, ethereal periphery.


i just lit this incense i've had for years that smells of pine trees (o Maine) and looks like someone cut a hunk out of some bark intending to burn it.
isn't it strange to love the smell of things that are bad for you
i always envision myself in the future with an--involuntarily-positioned--cigarette dangling between my fingers

"a sound slumber, and a long good night" lucretius

i put a million flashes out, they twinkle back s.l.o.w.

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