Sugar Lining

craving for curly tops and pearly eyes 
to help me float and blend into the skies of

dark whirlpools and cotton soft kisses
 that pinch my cheeks to a smile 

sugar rocks and sugar streams 
poisoning my blood full to the last T

 with roasted coating, a tint of caramel, 
barely any meat but what's meat to a sweet chamomile 

breathing in a different atmosphere, 
inhaling my dreams, the ones i love

so that i may bask in my blissful lust, 
i search the high seas and low bluffs

for something tall, something skinny, 
something cooked because raw isn't for me

it doesn't have to be perfect 
because perfect is boring, and very scary, 

perfect is alarming and blasphemously daring; 
i hate perfect and perfect hates me

to taste the sweet licorice on my tongue 
and melted kisses on my lips, 

how many years will it take for me to feed this craving 

born out of picky whim and orange flavored lipstick.