change color at my command, i’ll haunt the pale shore of your very delicate shoulders, the soft rush of your neck, the ivory tremble of your very neat and very elegant stomach, any place that you allow me to touch. i’ll follow your eyes, your wide and hypnotic glances that are sweet and flammable like…

my hands are stained with grease and everything makes a sound, everything is wet with meaning and i get high and float around, a desert emptiness in city streets, a grit and grime of back and forth, a smear that eventually dries and hardens. -S.C. Martinez