Hot Milk

I confess that I am often lost in all the dimensions of time, that the past sometimes feels nearer than the present and I often fear the future has already happened

‘We have to mourn our dead, but we cannot let them take over our life.’

I was flesh thirst desire dust blood lips cracking feet blistered knees skinned hips bruised

Blue is my fear of failing and falling and feeling

A gift like love is never free.

there are more acceptable shades of wrong.

I confess that I am often lost in all the dimensions of time, that the past sometimes feels nearer than the present and I often fear the future has already happened

He knows he is touching me somewhere that makes me tremble

History is the dark magician inside us, tearing at our liver

Let her think no one can see her suffering or how she drags her feet with sadness. Love explodes near her like a war but she never admits she started it. She pretends she has no weapons but she likes the smoke. Love is not all she needs even though she has no one to hold her hand under the stars and say god the moon. She wants a job. I have other things to do too.