Please note before you read that this comments on modern views of sex and includes three "curse words" that may be considered offensive. If this needs to be taken down, please let me know. <3 This is intended for a literary magazine and I would like some help with editing so if you could critique, I would be grateful! Tremors and quakes shook our solid ground with aneurysms of bygone gunshots popping in our faces. There was a bloom of blue over our breath and amplification lit our path like the stars of heroes guiding our journey. There were the chainmail shivers and steel bullets of raging war chants, the anticlimactic deaths of timelines forksaken strewn about our feet in usual fashion but somehow we were life instead of death. How on Earth should I split your lips? Let me place my tongue and thieve your breath. I will move in all the right places, just tell me what simon says. I was spinal cord tied and shooting star struck and she + I ='d ax^2 + bx + c parabolas that reached out of our solar systematic guts and pierced the heavens with unbound and unsound eloquence. We had become the conquerors. We spilled blood, we wiped rape clean with gold edged axes born of phoenix fire and lust and anvil rusted pen blades shearing lined paper to give grace to new beings and birthing constellation candy, spitting letters lit with neon and filled with palpitations of jugular veins; agnosia plagues the minds of the youth. There is no form to this, no central idea or morals. We become what we puke from hearts beat-beat-beat-beat-falter-beating the rhythmic inhalants clouding the spray paint can lungs of the young. I want to pull God close, kiss His cheeks for what He gave us - a world we can bend and mold with our hands. We can take opium fields and spider webs and somehow the result is cosmic claustrophobia poking and peering into the depths and seafloor ridges of your mind - put your head straight. Don't write past the margins just place your neck on all the cutting boards and wait for someone to chop or else take the knife and let's start a genocide no a neolithic xenocide that splits the kinetic from the symphonic and paints sunsets with the dawn of gore. There is explicit content taped over our mouths and television screens. Our pupils pixelate under bright lights, we taste the intoxication in our throats as the silver plays out robots on wolves probing for a ticking point or something to make snarling canines writhe. Yellow sunglasses with blue blocking lenses - yes - that is what she wanted for her birthday but instead she got sex in glass bottles and plastic tubes. "Let me see your c*nt you c*cks*ck*ng sl*t," she lifts her skirt, no cotton panties hidden beneath. I sat next to her at lunch. "You don't really have friends, do you?" She was alone. Lips licorice red like her nipples were peppermint pink she spilled monochrome words. The irises of her eyes were every shade of heliotrope. She was here so short, yet I found a lifetime. There must be someone to share this moonlight with, someone to hold this silence and cradle it in their hands with the tenderness of gentle feather strokes. I need cold fingers that will tap at my own and send shivers through my nerves. I need another set of eyes to stare through skeleton hand prints that cover the sky and another mouth to drink this clean air.