you're an anagram in my heart
and i don't care

as long as
you love me
tomorrow,

you fucker.

i still got a glass full of wine
and a bundle of hope
towards
Marley's flames
being
just
hot enough

to
light
your ass
on fire.

and if that don't bring you
back to life

looks like
Merlot & I
are enjoying
a night
on the town.

who's rockin' the damn boat
this time around?

don't care.

i'm lost in the waves
of you rockin' my ocean -

causing that
commotion
of devotion
that i love so much -

the way you
harvest the flow
and demand
its cresting
is the rest
of why
i'll even be back
in the morning.

we got that
ebb & flow
action
reaction -
fantastic

then shit.
the split -
again?

shh...baby, be quiet

you know you love me
more than
any bullshit
either of us could
ever
dream to concoct.

so just tear it up
like i know you want to -

all that bullshit,
i mean.


unless.

you mean.

otherwise...?


i'm your fancy baby
waiting at the center of the night

to
bang around
town

or in bed
instead

wherever your head's
at daddy,

i'm there.

the timing's always right
this time -

i promise.

so let's endeavor
to do this
together
forever

or
whenever
comes after
that.

I can't even count
how many times
the sun has done
its shining thing
without me,

pouring down
its sunny rain
on my big ol'
black parade.

there's this weird dynamic
that tends to occur
when my lesser-than-vibrant
fanfare's in town,

with all its subtly pompous
pomply pomp  
blaming it all on
circumstance.

"Let's all gather 'round
this bitch's back
and lick the jelly
right off!"

(please!)

don't ask what my
'a little too loose'
head off my neck
is doing

peeking
wishfully

out from the darkness

rollin' around the p's in my mind

pathetically
snatching at my
poor, poor
soul -

a pity party
thrown for
one.

it's quite funny
really
how often
i forget
how silly black
looks

when it's sunny.

i've been craving
the sensation
of
satiation
in being

who i am
makes lesser sense
with each

overturned

rock
that leads to
an
epidemic

of revelations
and patience
in my wait for
illumination

on topics
i didn't even know
were relevant.

each endeavor
i meet
quietly
quaking
with
significance -

waiting
for it all
to be
realized,

each person
a character
vital
to an end
brooding
in
gestation.

i am a queen.
a seductress.
a coyote in the darkness.

a healer.
a guide.

a friend.

i am a person
unaffected
by the world
of
labels,

living within
this all
but
without.

--

it's a charming game,
a sweet, sweet dream,
this life thing,
gifted to us.

takin' it
one step
at a time
with each
step
more alive,

and
to think,

yesterday
i spent sleeping

through it
all.

Shards and candlewax,
ache in my belly,

I am
lost in the looks
of the
transient.

You're a crazy person,

with your backwards
feet
that keep
finding their lost way
to

me -

an iron-wrought
Stubbornist
with morals
galore,
full of

delightfully
annoying
complexes.

You're genuinely
insane
the way you
brush off your pain
and slide your
arms
around me
anyway,

or

how you
ridiculously
forget
the soft spot
i hit
by the time
the silence
takes over.

One look in
your eyes,

the sound of
your sighs,

the signs,
my love,
are there.

You're a crazy person,
indeed,
to say that you
need

a person
like me

to love.

It might have been
the
old lasagna
that reminded me
I was happy -

at last.

What has made
this lioness of
the high stars
above-
queen of the
great safari -
cower on
rough,
quaking knees,
before her
mighty throne?

I blame his
brown,
dripping
eyes
that could
so easily
snatch away
her roar,

And the
silken sweet way
he plays his
magic flute
as if to
charm
the great
Black Mamba.

He jests
with a heart
so full and
merry,

So light
upon his feet,

I'm to my own,
before I know it,

My heart beating
to his beat.

He's found a power
more mighty
than pride,
more great
than power
itself,

I am on my feet
and to my knees,

Bless Me.


And, You -

For allowing me
favour.

again,

i will bury
your
honeyed
words
down, deep
in between
my breasts,

humming loudly
above reason,
muffled by
passion-

by love,
my love-

don't waste me.

my pearly eyes
and heaving chest
are
truths i keep
meaning
to share

but
you harvest
so often
the honey
seeds
you sow

give them time
my love

don't waste me.

i'm your
darling dear
with fluttering
fingers
grabbing at
your hand

to
stay afloat
in this
teeny boat
made

perfectly,

a la
Us.

there's something about
letting a person speak
when there's really
nothing
to say
at all,

the pressure placed
becoming so overwhelming
that their heart
and gut
start spewing from
the poor thing's
opened
pores.

imagine the feeling
you experience
thinking of one's
innards doing a thing
like
that thing -

it's a rather
awkward scene
to take in.

--

I haven't a direction
that i'm looking to go in
specifically,
but i believe if i
take two lefts
and remind you

...

and another left
to bring us
back to

that girl who keeps
speaking
and
with every line
is
speaking
for all to
hear.

Now,
you know my secrets.

i am singing soft pinks,
after my too bold reds;

i mean,
maybe, my great, round bursts of
clumsy heart
didn't bruise as sweetly
as i'd hoped.

i haven't a thing against
climbing to middleground;

my lips are left
less chapped.

--

I am a
yet, wild queen -
learned-head bowed
low.

heart lifted

-in anticipatory gusts
of questions,
peppered with thanks,
for the inner knowing,
melding into my all-

to the heavens, above,
lifting up fervent
pleas and blessings:

thanks, for the continuing cycle
that continued
long enough
for me to believe
and is continuing,
even still -

this was something
different.

not singing after?
but, softening to?

this feels much,
much more like home.

let's talk about love
and how it fucks your shit up
while you sip on its elixir
like it's doing
the most
wonderful thing in
the world
for you -

how it thrusts you
into the darkest places
you've ever known
to feel shit you
really feel

but
not
really
at all -

let's talk about how
beautiful it makes the world
when it does you
right
and how dark it can get
so fast -

or

how it can put
your entire
life
on fast
forward
or
set it on
a blissful
pause
or
bring it
to a
screeching--

STOP.

i've gotten my hands
plenty dirty
in this game -
thinkin' i wouldn't
need gloves
to play

but
shit's dirtier than money
though
sweeter than honey...

so i sip
once more -

in lieu of
the learned
and because
of
the learned -

i'm downin' that elixir
until i'm fucked over
silly
because what
has been
learned
has been
learned
hard
& good:

drunken love
is the
only way
to love.

drip me dry
from all these
carnal cases
of
spiritual
expansion
or
personal growth
or
whatever
whatever
you wanna
call it
this time
you simply
can't hide

the truth.

i'm exasperated-

tell me
what your
truth
sounds like
'cause
i keep on
confusin' it
with
what i call
truth

and, shit ain't
linin' up
right.

deliver us from
evil
in manner
and in
thought -

deliver
me
from
dirty
deliveries.

screamin' red
snowball hat
clashin' so
loudly
with my
fall of
that year's
new
hand-me-over
jeans.

my bike was fast.

silver metal
peekin' out
from beneath
the
shimmering white
& pink
chipping
paint job
my uncle
had given me
when
baby & i'd
turned 7.

it was sleek
i was meek -

good riddance.

i woke up
just some
time ago
when i realized
i just wasn't
doin it right -

i wasn't doin it
at all -

classify sleep.

the time spent
prettyin' up
your lofty wants
in the nestles
of the night

or

the time spent
every day
doin a
whole
lotta
nothin
and probably
thinkin you
weren't

?

sleep.

tha's when
you blind
thinkin you
really
know what
red is

it's when you
stone cold
deaf
and live on
thinkin'

you can
still hear
just as
clear

His Voice.

She sat
A broken doll
Spurting
Where she meant to
Sing.

Hold her hand
Bite your tongue
And
Remind her
That you're
Hers.

Shimmy wild
Shake down -

This is some
Railroading
Existential
Trolling
Shit.

I’m plugging in-

A glaring glitch
In your singular
Reality.

You’re completely
Right
If you think I’m
Taking advantage of the fact
That you
Think
We’re all just
Programmed players
In your
Sacred
Existence.

My iridescent snicker
Isn’t what’s up for debate
Buddy -

I know there’s a coyote
Lurking about
Somewhere
And I’m gonna let that
Son of a bitch
Chuckle & buckle
Up
Until I lose it
In the
Trippiest corners
Of your mind;

Whistling like
Whispers
Where words
Sound like
Wonders

Bathed in
Confusion
At its best.

I’m gonna make you
Wonder
If you’ve ever
Waken up
At all.

--

Gear hopping
Daily
From your
Native system
To
“What the hell’s
Even
Going on anymore?”

Don’t worry
Though
Darling.

I only switched
The blues
And the greens.

You’re only sleeping
If you believe
You are.

tundra icicles
cut my heart open wide -

can't pretend
this wasn't what I signed up for
when I ran in here
after you.

i slipped you some matches
when you weren't looking
and watched you light up again,
while I just sat there

in unfamiliar territory
rolling around
on my big girl wheels,
determined to sneak you
a pair of telling eyes
as soon as no one
was watching.

i should've known better

than to bring you
a stolen vision,
as if i hadn't already learned
of the subjective quest -

i'm just trying to
help you see

what the matches were for.

Surely these surly bits
Must be burrs caught up in my
Makeup -

Making up reasons for
Why my spit was accidental.

I done been through a
Rough patch or two -
Crawling with these
Thorns in my knees
Across funky plateaus
That poke their chests out
In their scouts
For sunnier flora.

Though,
I assume their search
Didn't go over so well.

'cause these scabbings won't heal
Like I want them to,
Buried under gobs of
Ointment
That was supposed to take care of it

(And
One more bandage
Just in case).

I'm just moseying on through,
With my feelers out,
Making sure you're someone
I have to know.

In and on my way
Somewhere
In this crazy field,
Waiting for sunflowers
To bless my prayers
While I continue to
Make room for myself to
Slip past
Without being noticed.

I'm smiling so hard
To keep the soft-hearted
At bay -
Trying to avoid being forced
Into pinpoint relations
With clueless drifters
Who refuse to stay on their side.

They only mean well -
I know this,
I do.

But, the simple has yet to escape me.

Send your
Sympathies
To the weak ones,

Roleplaying
Alongside the meek,

For these are the creed
Who,
Without giving heed,

Deliver their lives
To bliss.

Toward thinking - thinking toward that newer stuff.

Implicating a newer truth -
More meaning more than ever what meant before.

[Enter eternity]

Dry unveilings found me dripping and drowning,
Ogling the ones who did it better.

Enlightenment, apparently, doesn't come with instructions -
Sorry, Timmy - do catch me when I'm wiser.

Nit pick my tendencies to
Overcome the dumb junk -
Trippin' about all of the dirt that's piled up on my dirt, already.

Each moment that caters to forgotten smiles,
X's out all of the  good times I could've spent passin' the conch shell with somethin' to say - Ha.

I'm itching to perform a miracle.

Settling for truths spilled from frigid lips just ain't my cup of tea -
Thank God.

--

Everything is happening now.
Exhale.

you're not half bad
at your candlewick blossom snuffing -

got your braggart game up loud
in your repetitive silence
beaming at the doting strange phoenixes
darting in between your
bending fingers,

snatching up my flames
in their return to their
static progress on
life skills that are lingering
far too long
in the forging stage.

baby, baby
please -

tell me those aren't
your voices
slithering up the tall
columns of echoes,
wailing out
overzealous,
too pompous
orations.

nevermind -

my mind's pretending
to sleep somewhere marvellous
in this mind-field
of
the littlest
pink orgasms,

trying to act like
i don't suddenly feel
as if
the tomorrow
up next
will be bringing
a different star.

so i just sit here -

pointing my toes at occurrences
that i really wish had've gone down
a whole lot more
differently,

praying that
by some miracle,
tossing a bit of dust
from my careful bag

(paired with the experimental
levitational practices
i keep doing in my free time)

will somehow
make room
for all these
eggshells you won't stop
throwing onto the floor.

too many have found me
playing patty-cake
under that possessed streetlamp
down Hardy,
the one that always seems to flicker
when i walk by -

snatching back its potency
just long enough
to highlight the
unsolicited red apple ritual
happening in my
cheekbones.

i've got a game to catch.

not trying to be the dawdling girl,
throwing all of her hopes
into the air,
willing the destined one
to be something that will
cradle us both.

you gotta be on this
wick snuffing trip
searching for something a little more than
a butt-tossing buddy.

better get a pack of matches
and try to beat me to it,
'cause i'm putting up my fire-red can

and the light's gonna follow me out.