Con Artist

My directions senseless.

I like to think I'm special.

Full of vibrations, twitching.

Only because I can laugh at my own jokes

never the ones you make.

Keep it simple.

I was five and life was easy.

Marysia Land

I miss the make-believe words I rolled onto my tongue

the inscriptions I wrapped around my hips,

the soft hands you placed onto my soul.

Where did the peaches and mangoes go?

My thighs wrapped in candy and smoke,

rainbow smoke that filled my lungs until I was annihilated.

I miss the warm breath you cause me to sniff,

choking me in an abyss of sickly glue.

I can't, I miss this. I miss this. This with you.

It's almost two, so where are you...

the sun goes down

You told me if I love somebody that I should be able to let them go.

If they don't come back well...

but if they do then that love is appreciated even more.

Would you do anything differently?

I'm exactly where I was a year ago.

Maybe I never was okay.

Where's my wonderland?