(Source: jacobvanloon)
veil
woman with a veil dripping over her body,
pale pink wavering back and forth in the fan
much like the gown of my senior prom, the one
nicolaj ripped down the center
two eyes glow beneath the fluorescence,
lashes dusting, blinking away the fresh air
and you can make out her lips sucking in meager mouthfuls
a perfect O clinging to stitches of modesty and meekness
how does she eat her food, how does
she kiss her husband? or maybe she doesn’t,
does she remember what she looks like?
maybe she only takes it off while making love,
shrouded in the velvet dark as she throbs inside herself
in this place, air comes easy to the lungs, the moon
makes the dew along her skin shimmer
and you can see her, what she is
what god made her
wish you cared , wish you arrived like the wind
melted into the palm of my hand like a pastry
you never loved me like the weather, rather the water
slipping through your hands, things that escape
lies blooming from a brother’s mouth
shadows of blinds make me weep, bleed through
teeth of my fellow deadheads
you didn’t believe me, my dreams of the crucifix
not even ash wednesday and yet
the grey smeared across your forehead speaks of
rebirth
your cigarette is racing against the rain
you can’t move fast enough inside me
I can’t move fast enough away
you haven’t noticed but
I only take my clothes off in the dark
(Source: filthavenue, via cultofsecrets)
Vehicular Samsara
it’s spooky,
the way cars crackle after the engine gives way,
lights flicker like eyelids, one immense weight
steel just waiting to mold into a newer version of itself, folding
metallic bodies again and again as though
there is no end to the pounding circle,
coming down in this stabbing motion we all instinctively
know and forget only to remember
under its wide jaws and crunching teeth they want to feel alive
to thrum under your hands, sit in rainbow pools on the pavement
take you anywhere despite its own decaying self of rust and leather rot
it never stops raining in these woods and while the sun
drags across the sky, and mothers don’t worry
the children make a home of it, smear the earth arounds it’s body
roll around in the seats to bite chunks of thick leather
in this human ritual they give it a name,
not knowing it already has one
