The realization has to be clumsy
Because it’s not our fault:
I have been dead long enough.
She drips metastasis
Like Tom Petty trills;
The willing cog
To my desire to be damaged.
Her sinuous lure is music lore,
Sublime beyond synecdoche.
Left-rightness is a sharable quality.
I do not want to depend,
But transcend,
As I regress.
The problem is that you will not believe me.
~ Trever […]
Brown sugar speech acts
Are the enchantress’ weapon
Enabled by soup can waves
And hot sauce history
Her apparent preference
For sheet metal thin
Boy band references
Is but a sly homage
To an echoing rose
In the name of the hungry
Which proves that
Despite indulging in superficiality
She cannot avoid being literary
Through deliberate action
Or chance
~ Trever Abes
Trevor Abes is 20 years old and has published […]
My muse has her cheeks pierced,
And her shoe laces loose,
But carefully placed, as to avoid
A sudden fall.
And around her perforations
are perfect circles of pink make believe
covering what I rightly suppose to be
skin of an unworldly softness.
And how I wither, submissive
To an artificial rhythm unworthy
Of her marvelous beauty.
The frailty of her voice,
The frailty of her words,
Add […]
