smokerings

some questions that occurred to me while recalling that the sea is the color of my shirt, ashen blue-grey and splitting at the seams.

does she write like this because?
or why?
or if she writes like, is she then
enormously
green, engulfingly
simply, humongously
grande,
and if her hair
dances with the leaves
and if her eyes
flirt with the wind
and if talking to her is like
visiting your saturday night
fever, can you come home?

do you eat with one hand, or both?
do you aim for the lips, or the mouth?
do you bleed with your veins or your heart?
and when it hurts, do the tips of your fingers
tingle?

do you do that out of habit?
or do you really mean to say?

i can warm my eyes by just staring at the stars. one night, alone, on a roof somewhere. the sky glows pink because of the city lights. i want to be spiked, cropped and the centre of the universe.
life is mine, mine, mine, mine.....