living proof that art is fluid in form
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a poetry anthology written in fruit juice and cheap
ink
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in loving memory of the past
@timespieces
copyright 2018
the doctor told me that my hunger for beauty made me a viscous aesthete march may be a lovely thing a delicate purity ring on a lady's finger and april may be the new may but i've marked it on my calendar with a frowny face for such inconsistency and restriction cannot be handsome or sweet i ingest the bliss line my insides with pollen block my intestines with cheap perfume i chug a bottle everyday, you know the doctor held aloft a single clinical finger stunting my babbling stream and she prescribed me bright yellow tulips dipped generously in bluebird's blood
"smell the destruction deeply, once each day. waft it towards your nauseous nostrils and inhale until you pass out" she advised
my startled gasp could be heard from the waiting room i hit the ground with no other sound than a thump and woke up drenched in something else's blood
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