(why my homework isn’t done)
his eyes are green. sorry. but they are.
green dreams green sea green
hope ringed in granite grey
i could never pronounce his name
crossing the quadrangle in a world of
abstract concerns i staggered my overwrought
mind directly into his mouth
he kisses me every time we meet
i can smell him between the pages of my
art history books
the question is always one of freedom:
revolution versus rebellion
and that form that encourages or
merely appeases that
filthy throbbing sacred need
for something better
i have been in the library every day this month
when he sees me there the kiss is a secret
in the chicken shop it comes with a kick
after history class he licks my teeth clean
i recognise his morphology
in the slipping and flipping of my school book pages.
sitting in class
apologetic and eager
professor begs for synthesis.
my panties go damp
© Geneviève K
I am fascinated by the ways in which we do and don't embody our selves. I do my own kind of research, and coach people to live their truest lives. I practice healing and communication arts, and I write about all these things. I am a nomad, these days living and travelling on my boat in the U.K.
phone: +44 (0)7963898806