flora

see me  

gazing through a wine bottle  
 
i think about  
'gnawing on a ventricle'  
as a metaphor  
no  
maybe  
'a mouthful of veins'  
 
see a happy  
lemon drop  
sun  
 
see warm wet violence  
streaming from your nostril  
cover yourself in it for all i care  
 
see a text message  
 
it doesn't mean a thing  
none of it  
 
slip out of focus  
like a pair of panties moving down  
the convex of that perfect caramel ass  
 
they were red  
 
i knew they would be  
 
 
i can't see anything with these eyes of mine  
they're useless things  
just taking up space in my skull  
 
i fantasize sometimes  
that maybe one day  
we will see all of this in a different light  
and we'll have a laugh  
 
and i'll see you again  
 
and we'll drink together  
just how we used to  
 
 
but i don't think  
 
 
i have ever  
 
 
 
 
seen you