Violet Bent Backwards Over the Grass — Chapter no 17

Salamander

Get out of my blood salamander I can’t seem to blow off enough steam to get you out of my head

SoulCycle you to death run you out of my blood to San Pedro and yet everywhere I go it seems there you are.

And there I am.

I don’t want to sell my stories anymore stop pushing me.

I want to leave them underneath the nightstand to be forgotten or remembered should my thoughts come upon them in the middle

of the night after a beach day or by you some afternoon- to thumb through- with your worn warm after-work hands.

I love u But you don’t understand me

You see I’m a real poet

My life is my poetry my lovemaking is my legacy

My thoughts are not for sale

they’re about nothing and beautiful and for free

i wish you could get that and love that about me

because things that can’t be bought can’t be evaluated and that makes them beyond human reach.

Untouchable Safe

Otherworldly

Unable to be deciphered or metabolized something metaphysical

Like a view of the sea on a summer day on the most perfect winding road taken in from your car seat window A thing perfect and ready to become a part of the texture of

the fabric of Something more ethereal like Mount Olympus where Zeus and Athena and the rest of the immortals play

I love u But u don’t understand me

You see I’m a real poet

My life is my poetry My lovemaking is my legacy

You can have a life beyond your wildest dreams all you have to do is change everything…

all you have to do is change everything

All you have to do is change everything

all you have to do is change everything