Jammed Guns + Roses

Pagan dancing circles
& the ultraviolence
perspirating the air
sifts chalk into
the crack between us.

You left the city’s crazy
& returned hungry—
spreading the white wood’s
black days
w/ my infection of rage.

You laid me down
in fake diamonds
& lying pearls—
your old vices
stripping me into a
violent field
of bone houses.

I can hear the bruises
& the cut above your
eyebrow speaking—
my goosebumps
punching you thru
& the song battery sings
ends & begins in
minor chords.

There is a choir
of me
vibrating in symbolistic
blurs in each of your
eyelashes—
each of us spanning
wider than Columbus’
bus of misfitted lips
& our opacity varies
w/ every tear you fall.

My teeth are rakes
w/ sharpened spikes
to paint portraits
on your chest—
stippling in my sainted
image.

The cherry colored midnight
I stuff you with
leaks out & fishes for
the affection of your
mistress birds—
too busy pouring honey
in the door carved
into your side.

I’m a pretty-bad girl
& all your done decisions
feed the metal string—
moving to etch & poke
the eden rib bone
cautious to the wind.

Remember the greatest
hits hurt deeper
than sensibility—

I’m sad in the city
w/ a bottle of
shifting bourbon
soaking me thru,

swimming in a bathtub
of black branches
& electrocuted loss.