will you say it like you mean it?
like you’re really my friend.
you call me pallory,
Mallory but pal.
like friendship needed its own name.
i don’t wish for lovers.
i need more of this.
breathing intimately with someone
like i’m a sister.
us cuties develop blisters
from the sinister ministry.
we develop under the guise of scripture
as we pillage cities.
i was always a drifter.
i feel like, for you, it’s a pillar.
monuments and cathedrals,
coffee shops and trees to write under.
someone quoting tao lin like scripture.
i think of this as modern-day letters.
like if it was a hundred years ago
these few lines would be pages.
two lighthouses
just signaling ships to a harbor.
such feelings to harbor
as if logical is always starboard.
sometimes it’s scribbled, listless,
figure drawings.
i hope you see yourself as a scholar.
lord knows my narcissism
bestowed my title of doctor,
but after saving a few lives
i don’t feel like such an imposter.
postures on a chessboard
as we hoard discussions like talking points
when really
a few nods do the trick.
lakes to mountains.
everywhere else
for pumped up kicks.