Just a temporary man, who writes poetry and listens to too much noisy music. His hobbies include salivating about glaciers destroying civilization and the cultivation of facial hair. Additionally, he generally strives to make himself as useless as possible....follow the thread back...
AND READY TO BE CONSUMED
you get eaten alive by the perfect lover.
not by need, but desire
the moon turns to blood,
take your flesh from me
and i’ll disrobe the metaphors
you’ve dressed me in—the
world ended the day i was
born. the day you were born
the sun turned to bright, bright
copper (now dull and green)
the color of the table we lay
ourselves out on. the color
of the hours that we wait.
notes: the title of this poem comes from tiffany’s “south from her heartbreak”
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Citizens: A Chronicle of the French Revolution by Simon Schama
Hard Night by Christian Wiman
Last.fm RPS
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