whimsybrain:

SPRING AGNOSTIC

Slips & falls & a snowbank featherbeds me—

I dip myself in glitter, eyes glossy with the moment before sleep;

before hypothermia; before drowning.

Tongue freezes to licked wounds.

Can I speak of anything else?

All that glitters is broken glass, they tell me,

all icicles lunge for the cut.

Scales of your armor defrost in my mouth.

My pride is so small, so snowflake, so easy to swallow;

nothing can hurt me now.

julykings:

i can’t figure out what i want now.
to hibernate. to touch your stomach and
your fine hair. i heard you described as 
wilderness. as a watercolor. you. this thing
existing only in my head. but sometimes
in my fingers. i would place my teeth
around your neck, soft, or feel your shoulder
with my cheek. think: how miraculous
when you lift your shirt. or when i lift my shirt
in front of you. wanting this like pouring myself
a cup of tea. if i blink it could be an entire 
calendar. every day a red x.