Bleeding for the Moon on its fractured Edges
Let me cut myself
on your fractured edges.
I am okay with bleeding for my moon.
(Ahhh, such a metaphor it makes the poetic community wet. Fuck. I’m just saying I’d do anything to keep you safe (and quite a lot to keep you happy). If we were in prison, maybe an abandoned one that we snuck into to take pictures and monkey in, and we become stuck in a jail cell, I’d let you eat me. That’s how I know I love you. I’d let you eat me.)
previously published in Fuck Art, Let’s Dance