My Lazy Cells

you are
a punctured can of spraypaint, bleeding
earnest Convictions into grim cement.
punctured, you would say, by God

a long time ago you turned to look at me
your eyes were question marks
your mouth an asterisk
and i still don’t understand

i love you to the Endless and back
you can be Dream and i’ll be Delirium
and maybe we seek Destruction
without knowing it

and i love the feeling of you
of curling into you, pretending myself into
your second skin, your
body armor, your bulletproof vest

but i want for you
to turn West like a Wild Thing
grow like a weed, bloom like a flower
Mash and Gnash your Terrible Teeth

punctured, you would say, by God
and i still don’t understand
and maybe we seek Destruction
but i want for you

love

Note: Written for the eighteenth birthday of someone I love very much, about a half-year ago. It’s one weird love poem that references both “Where The Wild Things Are” and “Sandman.” I admit and embrace my geekiness. But do you know how hard it is not to be completely and utterly cliche when writing these types of poems?

I don’t pretend to be a poet, so comments and feedback are welcome.