On general principle, and perhaps skill
I cannot take advice from people
Silhouetted by bare walls
In empty boxes
How are there no coffee-stained post-it notes on suffering patiently?
Or crayoned love letters crooked with lip-cornered tongues?
Where is that tear-stained polaroid of your mother’s teenage smile?
Not even a curved sex symbol to stroke in the heat of the night?
Why scrape or forget a life of the messiness of living it?
Unusual and unpopular
Mold will grow and so can dust while
Sticky and empty can be painted over
But still this moment is for being flavored
and touching
This moment’s sensation becomes the regret or the pleasure
in the dream that could caress your skull
as the morphine fever swings you low
into the nowhere we’ve got proof of
So buy a can of spraypaint
Whose shade reminds you of love lost
And stab it with a antique knife
drape both on any wall
With golden twine
And I will open up like an orchid in the rain