miss the mark

I hadn’t known he was into chaos magick but the operatic hex performance paid his dues another night asleep at a monastery we elected not to fuck on the roof I was scared of opening so many portals in Barcelona we fought over wine labels I rolled a cigarette and in my mind begged you to buy me croquettes sometimes we just powerwalk on opposite sides of the street until we can forgive each other again it’s like tattooing it doesn’t always have to mean something but you do need to remember it’s a ritual you’re sustaining an aperture to the body that used to be our best joke you know that the entire body is made of sphincters if you think about it allowing someone to fill it with ink and ink always becomes symbols in May I stared at a basement ceiling my skin bared to that stranger’s nose she was visiting from Porto didn’t know where any of the sanitation paraphernalia was she drew in me something red question do you usually bleed this much all over the country these ruins still offer sanctuary the devout always know the best places to build I’m remembering the label you told me it was supposed to taste like corn that’s why there was a cob on the bottle I’ve got this little bird on my shoulder it all healed just fine.