cities of spain.

I love as if I were cluttering on the little towns of europe
the ones I flutter upon in the depths of my slumber
the sultry, cramped ones that encumber
ones soul
wider upon maps
calling from russia and france and italy
painting hughes of adventure.
I love as if I were to burn
and that causes malfunction in my relations
with everyone loathing everyone.
my father
bore me no harm
nor did he lift me
I was promiscuous I know
but there was this boy who burned
with the exact same
shuffle of flames
as I did
there was this boy
who was ugly in all the ways
I were ugly
and I drowned within him
and my father lifted me no more
this boy found a girl
who couldn't care less
and I drowned in my own ugly
then I found about a dosin other boys.
just as ugly
and lonely.
I love like the cities of spain
that cluster upon each other.
and within my cups of coffe
that I consome like I were
to end tragically without them
and with my dresses that I roam
the corridors of the earth to gather
in my books and my small little ideas
that I align to impress
I live with the presence of love
that is flames and mass consumption.