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