margin poem

branded failure of the sunscreen movement,

kisses like a hickey from god

salutations dumbass, some things last

forever matter + sound

how do these two things relate to one

another?

“I’m gonna have to go with (B), Regis.” / CRASH.

a destructive force meets

a regenerative object and the universe

was born between

our warring silhouettes left to die

like the core of a bad vibes bomb

somewhere out in new mexico, decay is in a way

inevitable, so meet me at the party city

helium balloon kiosk one last time. I’ll take

one of everything, by the ankles

so the child in me can feel abandon

again.

wouldn’t it be hysterical to sink

into oblivion with a mylar anchor

around my foot yelling IT’S A BOY

only to tell a wayward god, sorry bruv,

you had to be there? you

clockmaker and

dogcatcher trying to keep me down,

how could you forget

my ass is a crosstown classic—baby and boy

he knew

I’d kiss him just to bring him down a peg,

show him what it’s like to be

frowned upon forever by a tombstone grin

like mine.