I Woke Up at 3 AM Once

count the kisses, freckles, admire cheekbones. she is a tempest, a tyrant, a tirade waiting to burst, pop open.

the rent too high here, she may say. hear me underneath this labyrinth, this sea of drones we making by streetlamp car headlight shadow.

this backdrop of a wall for a canvas, for bombing our names with acrylics; the smell buzzing us around all loopy until we can lick the residue spray from off our grubby fingers.

like, which train car can we make we love in next? living in our libidos.

we are gypsies, villified by the dropping of the sun, villians under shrines, disguised by ruins we laid our skins in.

what net can we make our arms out of, the chest bone will stick out with prodding.

you’ve done this, i’ve seen you, slithering into rooms, wool eyes heavy from intoxicants, exotic beverages named after colonies.

the fleshy parts the meat of us, is why we are here, sharing the offerings of “gimme every bit of you in between your legs”.

filled by you.