Suffering in silence is second nature
for people wrapped in hated skin;
your life under constant siege because
you are a scourge on sight;

a blight in expensive sneakers,
a member of a caste unworthy
of empathy but if you can
somehow Dinesh D’Souza
your way through existence,
everything will be fine.

The Stanford Prison Experiment
was a glimpse of human savagery
put into a uniform;
...

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We were reckless with love.

Swans dancing on a lake of fire;
unfinished art searching for the
Louvre.

Quiet & loud.

Hungry & fed.

Bones full of broken stars
and twilight;

sapiosexual
astronomers
with the temerity
to traverse galaxies
hidden between the
braille on our skin,

foolish enough to believe
desire this strong would
take a half-life to
decay.

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We
whisper
love into
skin locking
ourselves
away from
this
world;

we
vault
every
memory,
guard
every
breath,
bodies slick
with stolen
time;

every
moment
together,
a living
sanctuary.

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Swing chains squeak
like unoiled screen door hinges

with each push, I get closer
to touching clouds.

Once I’ve achieved maximum
momentum, I prepare to launch

into the stratosphere
everything slows down;

I feel the heaviness of each heartbeat;
the impending weightlessness of my body

I catch a glimpse of the proud smile
decorating your face;

your mouth wording inaudible sound...

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