december thoughts and diary pages
an angel of tears and piss,
a bed of bones, blankets of ash,
laying in spit and semen and sugar.
(you called me sugar, once
you called me little ghost, once
you called me jupiter and you called me mars, once.)
dreaming of carving love into trees,
as though it's exciting and beautiful
to destroy something with your name.
caffeine and cannabis,
happy christmas, darling Adonis.
do your eyes still shine like stardust?
guilt has the tendency to seep through the pages of notebooks,
i suppose loneliness is easier to bear than regret.
fuck nicholas sparks
fuck clark gable