moleskine
intimacy--n. a bent hairpin in a pillow case, hair strands curled in question marks, one pink, balled sock beneath the bed shed eagerly before lovemaking.
we suck in the sharp, sweet smoke from a three dollar corncob pipe. the distance of stone benches and midnight lampposts flattens into a plane. the tree branches cut the glazed purple sky into fractions as i exhale my soul and watch it flee like a ghost. the world is peaceful and precise, and all i can think of is breughel's "return of the hunters." you do not see their faces.
the milk drained from the cracked pinata into the thirsty grass, which did not say thank you.
we suck in the sharp, sweet smoke from a three dollar corncob pipe. the distance of stone benches and midnight lampposts flattens into a plane. the tree branches cut the glazed purple sky into fractions as i exhale my soul and watch it flee like a ghost. the world is peaceful and precise, and all i can think of is breughel's "return of the hunters." you do not see their faces.
the milk drained from the cracked pinata into the thirsty grass, which did not say thank you.