Monsters

Wait, there are monsters there.
They’ll cut into your heart and
pull out all your insides in the dark.
They aren’t sorry there.
They don’t know the word.
If I were you, I’d be pretty scared

to be where you’re going,
to know what you’ve known,
to flip that switch and bed down.

On understanding letting go

You grant life to the seed,
coax unraveling buds to their need
of eruption from stems,
loose and untie the pregnant hems
of blossoms, seeds, polleneous pits;
whose wide mouths are rapt,
with any number of petaled lips,
screaming until blushed unto Heaven-high
with pink hands raised out far as death is nigh
to the Spring until Winter through that Fall which will lie
them lost to their season

and I, lost.

Talky talky

Say you're deep like ocean,
wet me like the sea;
but I've been so damn thirsty lately.
Please, talk to me.

A little drip in the desert, Honey;
Soul's chapped and dry.
I don't want to die,
and time ain't on our side.
Just talk to me.

They say love is a current,
a channel changing with the tide;
say that sun and moon's a steady circle
through the lows and highs.
But I don't care what they say, Lover;
you said you were mine,

and,
time ain’t on our side.
Come on, talk to me.