intercourse

(poems go here) you are the hollow point seething with anger run you red with paint crossing fingers like a heavenly saint this was the end, this was the path. virtuous and trivial, all the same between light, between woe between the indents of your smiles taking in every blow this was the beginning this was the rock. staring at meadows while i drag through the streets fires burning through the Harlem beat sweat, tears, anger, lust and division murky air- fixating our vision. the winter is cold but i smell summer whisking away the idea whisking away the shadow the final act.