so loved up.

& method, counting the stars; sleeping alot. I am the soft bread of your breasts,
tea, tea, This is method of a hollow head,

and counting, the ways i can mutter
the trees leaves, over your lips,
how i can spit spider legs

all over the roof of your eyes.
How, how how method is not the
teeth across the room,
not my dads glasses, drawing lines
for wings, and asking how to get to you.

Method is counting the ways the tree leaves,
lips, roofed eyes, all tell me I love you.

Author's Note

s-s-smitten!!

Reviews

[Collect-Eye]

Method feels like recurring characters in a beatnik's dream..feels like bare feet against the stool as the drum moves across the room...it feels like desperate urges to find beauty and truth in minuscule things....
It's hard to review this today..I feel like a cracked egg...I'll just say that phrases like "the soft bread of your breasts" and "method is not the teeth across the room" are exquisitely composed expressions.
Very personal and reflective piece that I admire and adore immensely
the second and third stanzas gave off a somber glow..so beautiful..you're such a beautiful writer and person and that is all

you're smitten.
(haha I wrote that before I read the note)

[Safrina]

i have noticed something. always the ending line of my poems contain me say something about love hahahahahah!