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 Oct 2013 Mutt
Malia
Author and Muse
 Oct 2013 Mutt
Malia
Write me down in your journal.
Dot the i’s in my name with your heart and cross the t’s with your smile.
Repeat it as often as you think of me, let the ink smear all over your hands recklessly.
Say my name out loud as you bleed it from your pen,
let the l’s roll off your tongue and let the ahhh’s strike a chord in your vocals.
Sing my name as you take a hot shower, write how it makes you feel in the steamed-up, foggy glass with your fingertips.
Paint your love for me all over your bedroom walls, and don’t ever erase me.
Tattoo me to your soul, make me one with you, you be the author;
I’ll be your muse.
 Apr 2013 Mutt
Melia
I can scream too
I can shout
I can kick up the dust
And threaten to **** myself

I can raise my fist
And rage and scream at the world
Take the car and run
And splurge
Take no concern for my actions

No need for consequences
Because **** the world
I can go depressed too
I can sulk too

I worked to get what I wanted
And when I spend
Not with my money
I feel sorry
Because there is guilt

I did not have anyone
I was locked up
I was expected to stay home
Do the chores
As my mother expects me to

Wait for the weekend
Wait for my siblings
Only to see the beam on my mother's face
When her son comes home

It ebbed me to see that
When I felt like I couldn't bring joy to her
And I bite my tongue
Fight myself to think it's satan's lie

Home alone
Stuck in a small house
No privacy
Because I can't even have a decent conversation
With my best friend
Without having eavesdropped

I can't cry out loud too
Because they might hear
My room door is spoiled
It can't be locked
No privacy
No escape

Stay home
There is so much to do
Clean the windows
Cut the grass
Have you swept the floor?
What have you done the whole day?
That strain in her voice

Now I can't do that
Because I am miles away
But the anger is still in me
I didn't know it was

Until someone else throws a tantrum
That is just selfish
That is very selfish
I suffered too
And I did not have anyone to rely on

Though I did have my books
My old canine friend
The internet that sometimes harmed
And my dreams

This is my dream
Then why this,
Why this?
 Mar 2013 Mutt
Tdragon
Sheepy Nights
 Mar 2013 Mutt
Tdragon
He found himself with painted walls, fish tanks, and a wiener dog.  A place to sleep, a place to eat, a fine couch to rest his feet.  A barbecue that was sturdy and new, a fridge of craft beer the finest of brew.  But aside all the comforts and things on the walls the one thing that was most comforting of all, was a little blonde who would follow him around, who turned him right-side up when he was upside down.  A girl who was worried about only him; and tried everything to set him free.  Free of a troubled mind that could not find the time for anyone but him.  No matter her struggle, her talks, or her love, he would not cave to all the above.  It came to the point where she had to go, she'd lost the person she loved the most. She left in a blink with her head in the fog, taking the pictures, fish tanks, and the wiener dog.  The girl that knew him oh so well could not save him from an imprisoned hell.  The self-inflected wound that would not mend; but conform as the standard of life he led.  A blank canvas is all that he knew, no pictures on the walls, no new barbecue.  No more snoring at night or meeting for fun, this fairy tale was finally done.  It passed so fast and looking back was it worth it for where he's at? Is this the place where he should be?  Two job's, school, and a shattered dream. She was his love, his hope, his home, and now it's just him all alone.
 Mar 2013 Mutt
Ghazal
Noose of Love
 Mar 2013 Mutt
Ghazal
His situation was dire.
Despite having taken shelter
Inside that ring of fire,
Fuelled with whiskey and ****,
And ****** with flesh,

She still held in her beautiful hands
The end of the rope around his neck.

Stepping into, and out of the flames
With unbelievable, unnatural ease,
She would tighten and loosen
That noose of her deadly love,
As and when she pleased.
For Hank Moody (Californication).
 Mar 2013 Mutt
Tonya Cusick
Soft is the tone of your mellow heartbeat,
electric is the feeling when our lips meet.
manipulating are your illuminating eyes stripping me of all my control and will power.
Seductive you are, this time, this hour.
The silent ballet of your moans play through my ears like a first string quartet,
I can't fight it,.. the thoughts in my head,..
this is what resulted me in your bed.
You have toyed with me for the last time.
I'm letting it all out,
I'm trying to unwind.
Both bodies adrenaline beating in unison,
both bodies still in motion with the wants, the need of a ****.
To feel close again,..
But after.. I'm A
                              L
                               ­     O
                                              N
                                                                ­      E... AGAIN
The lust you portray is no greater than your desire,
The power I feel of your red lustful fire.
I know I feel you, I can feel your warmth.
I know your here, so please don't torment.
My small,
innocent,
heart.
You lay your body across mine,
both of us vulnerable,
skin to skin.
this is it..
****** me.
Your hands, I can feel them,
Your chest also heaving against mine,
back and forth we commit the lustful and desirable sin.
I've had my fulfillment,
my satisfaction.
I've been seduced by your bewildering attraction.
Now it's my turn to make you feel alive.
I remember the day
when we went out
for a drink

or two

I remember it so vividly
in this old box of mine
that rests wearily
upon my shoulders

I recall taking you back to work
                
                                   "I'll pick you up at eight"
                                                                I said to you

I did

Then of course
we called up the old gang
you and I
and went in search
of mayhem
loose women
and looser talk

Not much on the former, eh, o' buddy o' mine

Oh no, but plenty of the latter
which is usually
the case

You had just been introduced
to a **** cider
that you gulped like a drowning musk rat
then you were sick
and we called out
the
staff
                                    who hurried and hustled
                                    with a bucket of their finest
                                                                          tap water

I watched in hysterics
as I patted your back
and watched the street lights
as they made your innards glisten

                                                     AND THE SHINE!

Oh, that perfect
shine
as the water washed away your remains

Poetic foreshadowing I am afraid, mate
as a bucket called Cadillac
washed up your remains
many years later
over the asphalt

                                                 AND THE SHINE!

Oh, that perfect shine
that a once pure immaculate light that was your enduring spirit
had waned
long before the wax melted.
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