I cried blood and tears
from across the room she held my eyes
with the same grip tomorrow while i saw
tomorrow’s feelings– with her mask of fake
feelings / angels and demons smelling her
Disarrayed — feeling the skin of her neck
like a strawberry and shape of the marks
of her soul i touched — and now the dogs
found her, to find her. I dug the fiction
deep in prose-mud || yeah ||
I am ashame to confess —
darkness touched my breasts like i do during
female masturbation (and the weather) inside
the disarray i colate emotion and animal feeling
TOMORROW i count down to Mars and dance in
my soul test driving strong attraction for
love and science _ the spaceship thrust
it’s rockets making my nipples hard and aroused /
Where is the smell of lost ancient thoughts — to
find it — to find it “I said, I will not put on
my mask”heroically to the Starbucks employee like
Rosa Parks.
:: 06.30.2022 ::
E.P. Robles | Poetry 