i smell you on my clothes

I smell you on my clothes; on my hands. All voices scratch as cat claws on bedposts. Their contrast is yours. You linger here… My hands, my tounge, my thoughts desire to create and gift. I draw for you; write you poems. My heart translates foreign texts. My brain picks up clues in the context. […]


twisted all I can think of is I’m so gad I left– got out of bars your arms made– dreams my eyes made without the brain, confusing my morality with your mortality as I burst from smoke cloaked hands dependent on need while elsewhere fires burned months of hidden rage uprooted from deep throated vowels […]