Peach Potions are Nothing Special

The orange is desiring the peach again. Does it not already know that its own navel is just as delicious.

The fluff on the peach is just being fluffy. Confusion amounts on citrus skin. Does the orange not know that it can grow its own fluff and the desire for fluff will blow away; effortlessly. In the wind. Amongst dirty washing being held with snapped twigs. Because without the fluff a peach and an orange are just fruit, right?

Or merely cylindrical forms.

Inscribed in burnt orange pith, traits of ejaculation, a liquid for bubble blowing. Bubble bursting – illusion popping. Listen to the sounds of whistle tweets nearby howling birds. Caution embers flicker as gas stops entice. Lighting fires underneath the cauldron, full of dreams, gizzards and toes. Smoldering sage. Cut grass licking¬†burnt cigar’s. Weeping eyelids curse sight melodies from making potions. Peach potions.

8 responses to Peach Potions are Nothing Special

  1. This is pure poetry,
    Hung like it should be.
    Why hang a poem,
    On a short washing line?

    Sexy philosophy,
    Flashing lights,
    From Jessie’s Navel.
    Job’s a good ‘un.

    • Jessie Martinovic – Author

      Hung and undone, in the sun, do dum

      Sexy philosophy, interesting, i was quite frustrated when i wrote this, watching this blind desire

      Ive realised when im in this state, words become curley and manic and chaotic, they are twisted and dont like to be explained afterwards haha

      Could words have feelings, too?

      • I suppose words must have feelings, after all, they have thoughts.

        Careful with those blind desires Jessie, they may just blow a bubble.

  2. Jessie Martinovic – Author

    Maybe ill conduct a word interview, i wonder which ones id pick

    Maybe some bubbles are worth cultivating and others need the hand of a dressmaker sewing hems

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