Strolling down Bourbon Street, centuries of pain and beauty beneath our feet,
Dancing on the heels of the greats to a rhythym the city seems to make from out of nothing,
à La Nouvelle-Orléans,
We’re alive, like the jazz, and smoke, and black magic floating through the air,
we’re wild, we’re free.
I love you, I love you, Je t’aime, Je t’aime,
Down by the Bayou, drunk on Rue Dauphine, on St. Charles Street,
Tracing the footsteps of Degas,
of Hemingway, Capote, Williams,
Sweet city beneath the sea,
Hold steady, hold on tight.
break down, fever thoughts spilling out of you, try/fail, love/hate, rinse/repeat
she kisses like she knows you
your bodies all too close
her lips a strawberry paradise
ducks move past you
you’re floating in the river now
a half light cigarette as you called him up the stairs
he tastes like dove and fresh regrets
but his hands fall in all the right places,
sins left all over the floor
sailing out to sea
skin glistening in the sunlight for the last time
the water devours you like a delicacy, slowly fills your lungs
break down, fever thoughts spilling out of you, try/succeed, love/unconditional, rinse/repeat
Beyond it, moving through the cosmos unbounded,
Test it with a few vinegar phrases, but those wounds have been healed now for ages,
what’s your motive anyhow? we’re just strangers with a familiar sense of each other’s coding,
How much progress occurs by way of quiet judgement?
Fuck it. We’re all hypocrites, but try to feel it,
Can’t relate? Well that’s alright,
just sit steady while the angel launches.
r a w l u s t
drinking in wine and heat
gnawing at the insides, propagating til it’s slipping out through every crevice
selfish, all encompasing,
r a g i n g d e s i r e
same old mistakes bathed in
laughing from the bridge at drowned insecurities
everything in technicolor for the first time
is it wrong to want to feel alive?
hands tied, legs free.
red hot to the touch
eyes, lips, fingertips consuming every square inch of new territory
fears ringing through bone
swimming in stomach acid
wildest fantasies realized
convinced “the right thing” doesn’t exist
convinced it’s all ever just been bullshit
wrapped in plastic with a bow on it
Sometimes looking back
you get livid with yourself
for being angry/pathetic/vulnerable when you shouldn’t have been
the permanence of the past rapping at the chamber door to your soul
find solace in the fact that while the past is permanent
the past has passed
Cool clean air and remnants of the past line the avenues.
Cafés on every other corner, magic spent with a love that’s true.
Loves, lives long lost – extinct.
Enveloped in the winding hills,
Entranced by hazy blue skies,
Could use another week (a month, a year) away,
Lost in the city by the bay.