Sunday, October 11, 2015


(dedicated to the object of a famous, unrequited obsession from L.A.)

Who are you?
made of sadness and animus.

a drug-induced desire
to be real and beautiful.
To be heard and touched
and felt and spoken through?
Like the screen apocalypses
of this century.

Who are you?
but a figment of image and sound
and deadly love on tumblr.
a public object of anonymous ardor
and suicidal sentiments of the gut

Who are you, really?
A dirty story with all your
limbs fitting sad girls in the right places?
A paper knight with the cure to
teenage death and body dysmorphia?

Who are you?
but small, trembling emails
and lesser known hands
wanting to touch your chest
or a memory

who are you?
Twin god
formed within Goddess Internet
and her womb of a tomb.

Who are you, my beloved?
But I, in another lifetime.
A creature without memory
but for your lips
that speak soft fire
across the numbers of time.

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