ruffly pink undies, a tie dye sports bra, and my huge-ass Metric tank top from like three years ago.
I AM A FASHION GODDESS
or, you know, the air conditioner is broken.
the fluctuations of her pose spat data written in
outdated programming languages
I could not read, could not code the matrices of her skinned breastbone
part-concealed by wilting laces, but
revealed in a smile always retreating like waves from wet feet.
It all shed so easily,…
ALEXIS stop with the sexy suits!! i want them all. on a man. so i can take them off of him. that is all.
At approximately 1,038 miles per hour
(rotating with formidable power)
at the Equator, decreasing in speed
the farther North or South – and experts have agreed
always spinning toward the East –
the Earth is filled with Man and beast
until the day we’re all deceased.
Arriving naked, drenched with blood and tears
we while away our fleeting years
amongst a chorus of swears or cheers
acquiring tics and fates and fears.
We play at politics and war,
we sail and fly and drive – explore
for things we haven’t seen before.
We claim it all and ask for more.
We fall in love, after a fashion
and fuck and fight and kiss with passion;
grow old and wither, to die inane
links of an infinite cyclical chain.