Too much too little; major pressure, slow progress. Most upmost interior, swerving through fantasies, aloof to myself, eye jumping, still with a hard smile. So won; so bossed out; the
world is just like me. Trying to maintain distance, running into self, so many boulders in skies. To flood a universe, all indebted to a rainbow, like losing was illegal. Loving you
was easy. Love picked up game. We at it. I walk away, grinning, it feels good. Made it that way. Juice with gin. Vodka with cranberries. We sat all night. Too much too quickly.
Spoiled on life, unaware of her fury. They would find something, a bad ass Diamond, to kneel at dice in an alley. In getting lost, in fiending for
freedom, reading a love letter,
crocheting a response, turned up. Suede boots. A white blouse. A black bra. Deep dark denims. A medallion. A scarf. Like winning. To have her—like a gift. She remains cold. We
laugh at bullshit. Close enough to know reality. A thousand on a bracelet. Just to look at me and proclaim: “You sentimental.” And bust out laughing. Put to gems, bags
raw, Love a bad ass comrade. We skate into dusk, reasoning over elegance, trying at a fancy life. To look at me, and divulge pains, to ask for something better.
