Trick Blanchfield is an Indianapolis author, artist + immaculate shade.
The Joker took my story literal: a patient martyr in the mirror. In situ, I see a silhouette with heaving breasts,
By Trick Blanchfield5 years ago in Poets
You used to rehearse in the mirror as I'd wait, filling in your skin from the bed. If I could give a name to each muscle
You are my every influence within this quick Nolita morning; a faded rose sky turns my fingertips into crystal caverns that cradle warmth into a secret I can hold in my hand.
I'm walking on broken ground. An acrid tincture squeezes blood from my tongue to leave me muted in situ. Waiting to be usurped.
– one way in, two ways out; shoulder to shoulder but eyes never touch – in gilded passageways where people take pictures of shit;
In words I am an heiress yet sweet, so sweetly I come undone again knees dirty before God I took the blue pill tumbled smoothe in chrom(r)
