THE UNIVERSE IS BEAUTIFUL AND DISCONNECTED UNTIL YOU ADMIT YOU LOVE SOMEONE
Personality is her chosen weapon.
She doesn’t kiss who she wants to kiss
because she’s busy settling for
who she knows she doesn’t want to kiss,
(her friends were possessive and would
feed her the ugly ones) and in kissing them
settles for the worst possible outcomes
like a pocket full of roofie roofing nails
dipped in chloroform. She doesn’t want to
kiss who she wants to kiss.
All of us are going home separately
to talk shit unrightfully.
The same isolation the village girls
act immune to: rolling up the cuff of jeans
hoping the necklace swinging over your breasts…
and breaths…
ends up throwing up.
Splashing all over the gate entrance
of the next man.
Does she feel unworthy of my kind of love?
In the time it takes to learn a person.
It’s so disgusting to me that she forgets my beauty.
You’re a little god to me
and there’s a little God to me.
It hurts that I know so little about you.
You were the one I wanted first.
A book of pressed flowers for you
but that’s poetry already written.
My daydreams are more vivid than my dreams.
When I think of you I can feel everything,
when I dream of you I can see everything.
Atticus Davis is a 25 year old poet and writer from California. His work has been published in Hobart, The Scrambler, Metazen, Keep This Bag Away From Children, Whole Beast Rag, Pretty Owl, Vivimus, theNewerYork! and Housefire. He is author of the collection ‘Dumb Stuttering Free,’ from Bedouin Books and has a new collection out from Expat Press entitled, ‘Your Aeon.’ You can stalk him on Twitter: @atticvsdavis
