With the least bit of worry
And I’m weak-willed
They expressed midnight with showers of orgasms.
I came on top of my tarot cards
And I saw the sharpest of reds.
Sigils that I marked you with
And your pussy tastes like the medicine I need.
And possibilities of
We smoke till our lungs can’t carry the weight of our Ashes.
I meditate in the thorns of your pubic hair.
My head has a white hat and your breasts talk to me in sign language.
The warmth of your hands remind me of a purple color.
Let’s rest here on the pavement like beggars as we are crowned by the pirouettes of hungry moths.
I wish light to all
Also heart disease
Melt cheese with your mouth
And smell this cologne
Every breath is a sharp draw
Of the swords in the heart.
If this doesn’t make you hard nothing will.
(C) A.R. Minhas 2019