Flint Hills
My toy car shakes in
clouds of the burning range.
Only my stomach is naked,
and I’m ready to be bit.
I’m going up to feed Hallie’s tamagotchi.
He’s starving and
I’m avoiding her mother.
Only my stomach is naked.
Soccer cleats sound like elephants to me.
My lips are dry and safe and
shut and tepid and
sinking from rot.
No one can hear my scary stories
and I don’t get to hear their screams.
I’ve traded my shoulders and my tongue,
but nothing yet.
Please Hallie Brown.
Spend the weekend at my house.
Pull your elastic around your wrist
and laugh like a grown woman.
Big Teeth
Disgusting big bang.
Made too many gods,
too much black hole.
Our giant star is impatient and sad.
Jake and I believe in scooby doo.
Expanding, every pain is perfect.
Cosmic and ultimate and disappointing.
Pretty dull in photographs,
but I keep a collection, for some sort of holding.
Jake, in my bed again, smiles on a kiss.
Touching teeth should feel porcelain scrapes, but no.
Permanence alive.
I am so itchy again.
Putting you on top has done the same for me.
