LATE NIGHT

"to kiss these lips

too brilliant to miss..

my mind's gone to hell
but it might as well"

i used to frequent the road that ends with dead bodies of birds

and listen to that delicate sound, hands between my legs

moisture from the night haloing around my head

biting my lips

drawing blood

it felt so good 

FLUSHED

can i tell you something?

there's days where i wished i'd never known you, but others where i want to be consumed by every vein that designs your body
i have to keep me to myself, because i feel like it's too sacred to spill myself over in just words
my thoughts stick close to my tongue, but never pours
but
then
i think about a world after me
the impressions i've left on the dirt as i walked
the salt of tears absorbed into pores of skin
who cares anyway? my brain loves this repetitive punishment
but i keep probing in my dreams


-          -         -          -          -          -

reoccurring thoughts:
MOIST MORNING (i walked alone that day)
SULKED SOFT CHEEK (out of anxiety, i'd bite my cheeks until they bled)
HOW BLOOD VESSELS DILATE UNDER STRESS & EMBARRASSMENT UNDER THE SKIN