February 15, 2013

After the rapture, silver
rain came to atomize the skies, 
to drench us in synthetic endings. 
I took a tear on my finger
And spread it across your lips. 
(I need to stop writing
about people I know. 
I’m going to get myself into trouble). 
We smell of amber summer, 
blackcurrant night, carnal 
love charnel love. 
I’ll be happy for you
when you’re happy for yourself. 
(Of course your happiness 
is none of my business
but then, making art is an excuse 
to make
everything one’s business,
that’s really why I do it).