I’m so in the weeds - deep voice (gross)
made of phlegm, tenor sucking on honey,
never goes to the gym; give me a dose
i sing better, dear, than your bogus knee,
walk a mile in my shoes and you will see
no other path was available to them
we end up a smidgeon forgiven only
to discover—the fire is sure to stem
from the world, in heaven, we’d criticize
but I table that to knock on wood -
when beef jerky, for us, betrayed his lies
he only ever does what he should.
Who’s driving through my neighborhood?
hellbent on destruction, dead in an hour
I’m grateful, my love, that you understood
can’t surrender myself to his tower,
tongue in cheek, now, an art forlorn
you must know, by now be what you
choose; i love what I would never scorn,
your scold, perhaps, if you love me, too
but your right as rain and dangerous to
all; sober love is what I imagine -
breathtaking landscapes, to name a few,
tops and bottoms and a bottle of gin
you assume, however, the wrong position
not what you’d think, perhaps, in a dream,
Leave out the drama, leave the friction
I’ll split apart, my darling, at the seam,
watch me unravel—be my diadem,
angry as a peacock: life in Kentucky
a woman i think of as purely them
don’t stop me, now, He was unlucky!