I adore mistakes
The way they slip off my tongue in that baby blue way
Innocent

Sometimes I consider
Sliding these blemishes in between the letters
Of the words I write
Just so nothing of mine will be perfect
And I can savor the taste of wasting away in this cliché English language

(but I know you would come after me with
big vocabulary and dictionaries saying I’m
sinning against the god(s) of literature)

So instead I rub my tongue down my bloody knees
Licking away the “accidental” trip I took on concrete

Some people say I’m one step away from insanity
But I like to think of it as flawed ecstasy