infinite jest

an open skirt.. shards of the past fly

• fly from her eyes,
  she says
  "f-'off" and sighs

a water canon goes off
into a glass of half empty hope
and blasts back in my face

all my best ideas
are attributed to her
but Gods don't
think their existence is important

our ephemeral
nuisance lives
buzzin' around her words
growing dark from spoiled creation

any imagined perfection
cannot be perfection
until it is real
she tells me very slowly

the weight of her passion
crushing my heart
its fragile winged exoskeleton exploding
between her leather lips

.
https://www.reddit.com/r/OCPoetry/comments/3wb6ci/transgender_dystopian_blues/

https://www.reddit.com/r/OCPoetry/comments/3w8s2g/sylvia/