Christofer Spencer
I hunger for a wide-bricked
Victorian build house in the Everglades
An open field on its right
A pond connected to a river on its left
And I'd be barefoot
Sitting on a dock, throwing pebbles into the water
Creating ripples
I would hunger for peach and apricot fried pies
with honey drizzled all over, coated in powdered sugar
Resting on a window sill
I want to create stars in my hand, cover your eyes
and show you nuclear fusion
I hunger to speak with so much bass in my voice that it
weakens your knees until they buckle
Speak with so much gumption, that you'll believe you know what I'm talking about sometimes
I hunger to take the breath away from those who talk more than they listen
I hunger for ironic shirts
Jokes with no punch lines
I want you to crack your knuckles in a silent room
Only to look back and hope I didn’t hear
I hunger for bed sheets to fit my bed
Better yet, I hunger for someone’s dent in the other side of the mattress
I hunger for someone to scream at me “You ain't shit!”
Until she starts to reevaluate her own life
I hunger for someone to feed me countless lies in a day, not
to protect me from hurting but
to prolong the seconds of happiness that I have
I hunger for a parallel
Someone to scream when I shout
Quake with I stomp
When I lie, they smile
