Precious Okoyomon
| Poem

The room is dark. Always.
They live in a small light green room.
In the attic of a large blue house.
The moon out of view forever.
a lover's hideaway both illicit // supremely domestic
  bleak blanked sorrow of the everyday
eternal lives
the room was filled with plants given to them by friends than were now gone.
  the carpet was filled with tiny pellets of hamster shit and weed crumbs.
a pile of blankets of the ground served as a makeshift bed.
   silently they would lay together and mumble soft breezes
  mourning skin      peeling from lips
the interiors were all wrong a drought creating new proverbs
a space between lies
mysterious pastures / the grace of flesh
  Swallowing a spell
  eternal lives
Creating new gravity
  apocalypsis
body of wind / hard sky
   pickled sunsets from trees
control is possible with soft bodies
  rising dust sinking in > mouths
fantasy wallowing in transmission of bodies elsewhere

They became whole in the love of golden rays of future sadness
  a body on it knees
  Jesu
I gotta stop lying this shit
Is about me and you
I’m a lady of desire
I’m wet for our future
When i
Hum the sky
We have money for    caucasian    dream homes
Leisure white lives
Imagine our pain with power
  I am always a different person / accidental
  sallow soft
only body part remain
the dream repents
I cut ur name out of my mouth
I cut our dreams from flesh
eternal lives / becoming light
Make love to my dead body