PAINT IT BLACK


I am crying hysterically in a hotel room in Las Vegas.  
There are five of the same Andy Warhol print on the walls and I am never alone.

I found comfort in the idea that he probably had an STD breakout because I flew across the country to kiss him in bed and he was always too tired.  I realized that I should leave early and he put on the Rolling Stones as his petty way of apologizing.  I then sat alone in a Mexican restaurant baffled by his emptiness until a woman came in the door and sat directly across from me.  The woman was drowning in her own tears and she looked me in the eyes and screamed "EVERYONE IS TERRIBLE".

There are two little boys making out in the pond until they fall asleep.

Someone once told me that they wanted to fuck me in my face in order to get closer to my brain
That person is a ghost now
and you are taking too long
and I am slowly forgetting my favorite way to touch you
you can only die for so long

Sitting alone in your bed for eight hours, I thought obsessively about how I could open the window next to me if I needed to vomit.  I could hear you burning cigarettes into your skin down the hall.


I sailed my boat to India to try and find you
but I drowned at sea


A few poems I wrote in the spring
~Kaya

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