A progression of bad language
Kindergarten: Stupid. Oh gosh don’t tell anyone I said that.
Elementary school: What the heck.
Middle School: Damn it this is freaking dumb as hell
High school: what the fuck did you just say you little fucking shitbitchcuntfuck I will beat the dicks out of your ass
College: what the frick frack snick snack are u doing
"If you think something is missing in your life, it is probably YOU…"
When you step out of the shower I immediately want to hold you. Your hair is wet, stuck to your forehead like seaweed, and I feel as if you are slowly drowning me. The blue thread of veins is woven under your skin, climbing across the tender underside of your wrists. I read so many poetry anthologies in high school, devouring them like a hungry wolf, gnawing on their bones until they were bled dry. I could do the same to you.
wound, n. & v.
There are apples in a bowl on the kitchen table. There is nothing else on the table but the apples. There is a knife on the kitchen counter, its serrated blade tilted slightly upward, as if ready for the blood. If I were to bite your lip, and hold it between my teeth, would you kiss me back, but harder?
In the human body there are millions of cells, and they multiply and divide like tiny starbursts. Sometimes, like distant orbits, they crush into one another with a sound like breaking glass. No amount of science can ever prepare you for when they do.
In bed, I grip your hips like the hull of a broken ship. We are all splintered; we are all being dragged down into the current. Even your hands: oh, your hands. I stitch your heart to my palm, so that I can take it with me everywhere. There is no thread that matches exactly the color of your blood. Your mouth covers mine with a soft pain, like the sudden jab of a needle into unsuspecting skin.
All this, and more.
Field Corners II, Snake River Valley, ID 2005