the chaos of a youthful fridge (its too many items packed in)
of almost two glasses of red wine
the pleasure of reading foucault
of the album that mentions your town (everyone is into it)
of sneaky cigs, sneaky spliffs
the kindness of giving each other timelines
the intimacy of casually influencing each other
this we nuzzle in
swim in
dance lazy hip circles in
accuse each other of being deliberately obtuse in
agree to disagree in
substance
lapping at the edges of grounding
accepting gravity
and in so doing
forgive it

you press your lips to my eye
pretending to be drunk
and our light, ever so light carefulness with each other
blooms suddenly
and we recall that we love each other
without speaking it
"I feel so damn slutty"
"I love your art"
"I woke up with a spill of my own blood between my legs"
in the quiet
we have no need to be cruel
and remake our family
until our parents are forgotten
and cousin means something so new
supes amazing
supes perf
perf perf
c u soon