on cold blood and my imminent trip south//[filed under-poetry]

cold blooded creatures will seek out warmth,
they'll curl up in beams of lemon-yellow sunlight and lie (liars) for hours,
watching specks of dust swim in and out of their vision like drunk and dizzy fireflies.
cold blooded creatures will pack their bags and move south,
leaving behind them nothing but cigarette ash and slowly filling footprints in the snowpowder.

i am an expert on cold blooded creatures,
because the purple sloggish sludge in my hands and fingers
mottles my palms grey and white and chills your lips when you're trying to be a gentleman.

i am cold blooded, and my heart beats irregularly, sluggish and heavy and dull,
and i'm packing up my things and heading south because i want it to beat quick again.
i want to be warm again,
and i want to lie (liar) in the sun and feel my marrow soften and my skin
turn pink, warm, full, soft,
and my blood turn red, smooth, hot, right.

i want to be a warm blooded creature,

and i can't apologize for that.