Layer 1:
Because i’m in love with how your eyes arch like the back of an anorexic ballerina when doing an interpretive dance when you laugh,and they are cut into half an orange when you look at me.And how your Frontalis refuse to listen to you when you try to frown,so the right part of your face looks surprised instead of angsty,a metaphor of how you always light me up even when I feel like an angry Sex Pistols record.And because I’m in love with all the scars on your skin you wake up to.Because I’m love with all 206 of your bones,and 270 when you’re two months old,despite I don’t love infants.

Layer 2:
Because your favorite Nirvana song is In Bloom,
and you smoke sans addiction to Marls.
And how your sense of humor is not a hollow cause,
Unlike shit on tv,which is a holocaust
if you get what you mean.
Like how you usually do,always,get what it means.
Because you can catch beauty on your tongue
when I can barely catch a snowflake.
And you believe in yourself
more than Jesus
or Moses
or Noah
or Allah.

Layer 3:
Because you light my cigarettes for me,and structure my sentences for me.Things that are taken for granted by others,but mean the world to me.And you hear toys speak in inaudible frequency and sometimes hear invisible things in audible frequency,because you have an angel in your head.And it’s playing a harp,and it’s the only angel and deity I believe in.You my think it’s  demon,but one person’s demon is another person’s angel.Because you’re the bridge from my Clark to Montgomery,and my Nat King Cole from Montgomery,you’re my human holiday and the thrill when someone floats on the Dead Sea.Because you thought I was having a cold when I cried over the phone.And because when I’m with you,my first instinct when I’m blue like a Picasso painting is no longer looking for an escape route.


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