benjamin’s broken button (channeling saul)

my book, my underwear, my board, my heart. these are just a few things of mine, you currently posses. my head, light with smoke that tastes like your lips. sweet and addicting, i prefer you to them. do you have it in you to fuck the view and fix…

if i could do it over, i wouldn’t change a thing. benjamin’s broken button, my weakened heart, smoke dancing. orange on black. fuck this shit,
“you’re so stupid, rose, you’re so stupid”

i am right here. where are you?

smoke seeps out my mouth, like the words i wish to say to you, but i never do. never.

i can say more with a kiss then i can with my pen. come closer, i’ll leave ink on your perfect lips.

locust walk, locust bliss and it’s you that i fucking miss. you write of his cock and my lips but i am the one standing next to you.
—
the shadows hear my pen scratch across the page and benjamin’s broken button feels the vibration of my redline induced heartbeat but i’d rather be like benjamin’s kite, inventing light so you could see how high i fly every time you give me that look because wings spring from my shoulder blades and i cut through the clouds, exposing the sun that burns your skin and i breathe you in, all the little pieces of you that meet the air and stick my cilia and make me want to pull you closer to start the process all over again so that i can sprout my wings and fly through the streets of this city, too small to hold my dreams, and rain my words over everyone just to make them remember why it feels so god-damned good to feel.
“when i can feel you breathing into me…” do you know why i feel so compelled to recite those lines? do you know why i stand alone atop the parking garage night after night.
no exit, no sleep, no rest, no reason, no rear window for me to peak in.
the roads not closed, i stole the sign. now can i steal you? take you from the fucking dark you live your life in. i feel the shiver. do you see the bumps on my arms? they show up every time i feel your touch.

you live in subways, making friends with fat rats, lighting garbage on fire and i am the performer selling her soul for some businessman’s dime. screaming on stages or parking garage cages or inner city subways cars, or stairways or bedrooms or porch parties for the inebriated whores. i spin the alphabet to blow poems like the smoke from a just fired gun. my snipers eye aiming for your heart but i’m too scared to lose my bullet cause the substance it contains it worth more than my life and if i give it to you i don’t know if i will get it back. you’ll use it to get high and leave me behind. you’ll use it for inspiration, like the seventh octave, you’ll use it to keep you covered, like my calvin’s you’ll use it to revive you, like the blood from my heart that you wear like a badge of honor, a metal of honor, the dog tags of a fallen solider and i’ll pass you my pen and i’ll pass you my voice, you can take over my legacy, i know you’ll make me proud until i come back down from my flight in the clouds and i’ll be like that flag whipping around above the tops of trees at the mercy of the wind which blows to the beat of your poem. something inside me dances when ever you speak. “i like a stone gargoyle spring to life” i want to resuscitate you, my angel. i’m feathering your wings. the shadows hear their gentle rustle. benjamin’s broken button vibrates in their wake.
i live to make you fly.
you breath to make me high as i watch your chest, your perfect chest, rise and fall next to me.

the sprinklers buzz on
misting my pages. sending a chill down my spine. this night is mine. even though its temperature sends me inside.