fingertips

I think I'll count the ribs beneath your skin,

Circle shadows round your hips, 

Press a promise to your chest,

 and hold my breath. 

coastal

It’s the soundtrack to a memory.
hours of asphalt to California
you riding shotgun; my car as a Catholic confessional
strands of hair shooting sparks through open windows
screaming delirium, sober insecurity
clashing in a blacked out coastal kiss

Shuffle

My feet shuffle past your doorstep, concrete sidewalk meeting brass boots in a shower of apathetic sparks. I'm just trying to put on a show, keep the fucking lights on through winter, but there's a whiskey buzz that always seems to dim the energy. 

You're warm inside your cocoon of chaos, and I can see your window blinds strain to hold it all inside, keep the fucking lights on despite your childish belief that there's someone hiding in every shadow. 

We live in cold, intoxicated unreality, never sleeping, holding out hope that the lamp in the corner will keep us safe. My feet shuffle past your doorstep, inching forward relentlessly.