A brothels First Ceiling Fan
the brothel’s first ceiling fan
as my memory rests i never forget why i loved they told me innocence will never last i am 40 something, needing to be hugged
once drenched in pain choked back in childhood when i would dip my right hand in that gray flour and its gravity
love is so rare a handful of ash holds the entire world’s weight i belong a long way from here
will you plunge through my home door? announce by dance you are here get me tied in a love knot, bitten free let’s still get stoned
show me your veined hands we’ll play and slumber in my life boat only to wake, feeling your breath on my neck. don’t tell me i am beautiful, show me
let me learn from your animalistic release depend on this breeze, as we do our chemicals to cease my fear your embrace that seeks to still me truth is i need to be inspired and dream of youit’s true there must be an angel smiling on her face when she thought up ways to put one on mine only in tears though do i speak in the dark keep your predatory clench in your powerful jaw
it hurts to eat, so you surrender my needs inspiring me, releasing me, strengthening me now gathering up moms clothes for the poor a litter of souls, i love as i was protected
dreadlocks or crew cuts,i spend with my life pleasing up my men, only one broke blown open, a girl again for the first time i listened to the earth’s heartbeat, finally
i am inspired, everyone i miss left hurt some have claimed my heart as theirs when my last love came, he slid a palm across my eyes and lent me his mouth
laid his head in the middle of me bent me, and my face rests on the meadow of his chest, again to listen to the earth’s heartbeat
i see many windows vacant no one keeps the brothel’s ceiling fan or the infants mouth sewn shut suppose none of us stay in one place long
last night my dream was so deep my bed came UNroped from it’s actions my father in the doorway, dead just home from the graveyard shift
inspired as i possess that brothel’s ceiling fan it has seen all that i do it is silent and wicked i find comfort as it has seen worse
it’s blue my brothel’s ceiling fan my favorite toy and rhythm count its turns, as it drills a new hole
tragic tricks of magic mix it or magic in tricks
depending on the gift of its breeze while doing chemicals expired piles of condoms
blue. my magic brothel fan.
as my memory rests i never forget why i loved they told me innocence will never last i am 40 something, needing to be hugged
once drenched in pain choked back in childhood when i would dip my right hand in that gray flour and its gravity
love is so rare a handful of ash holds the entire world’s weight i belong a long way from here
will you plunge through my home door? announce by dance you are here get me tied in a love knot, bitten free let’s still get stoned
show me your veined hands we’ll play and slumber in my life boat only to wake, feeling your breath on my neck. don’t tell me i am beautiful, show me
let me learn from your animalistic release depend on this breeze, as we do our chemicals to cease my fear your embrace that seeks to still me truth is i need to be inspired and dream of youit’s true there must be an angel smiling on her face when she thought up ways to put one on mine only in tears though do i speak in the dark keep your predatory clench in your powerful jaw
it hurts to eat, so you surrender my needs inspiring me, releasing me, strengthening me now gathering up moms clothes for the poor a litter of souls, i love as i was protected
dreadlocks or crew cuts,i spend with my life pleasing up my men, only one broke blown open, a girl again for the first time i listened to the earth’s heartbeat, finally
i am inspired, everyone i miss left hurt some have claimed my heart as theirs when my last love came, he slid a palm across my eyes and lent me his mouth
laid his head in the middle of me bent me, and my face rests on the meadow of his chest, again to listen to the earth’s heartbeat
i see many windows vacant no one keeps the brothel’s ceiling fan or the infants mouth sewn shut suppose none of us stay in one place long
last night my dream was so deep my bed came UNroped from it’s actions my father in the doorway, dead just home from the graveyard shift
inspired as i possess that brothel’s ceiling fan it has seen all that i do it is silent and wicked i find comfort as it has seen worse
it’s blue my brothel’s ceiling fan my favorite toy and rhythm count its turns, as it drills a new hole
tragic tricks of magic mix it or magic in tricks
depending on the gift of its breeze while doing chemicals expired piles of condoms
blue. my magic brothel fan.
