I wiped my lips with the back of my hand
And just like that
You were gone
The taste of blood, spit and ***
Smeared in my lipstick
I watched my hand lite the match, burn
And just like that
You were gone
The smell of phosphorus and
Crackle skin and
Fingernail singe
I read the book up to the end
And just like that
You were gone
The dogeared pages and corner notes
“Everything we see is a perspective, not the truth”
And you were gone
Sep 30, 2018
Sep 30, 2018 at 8:38 PM UTC
Your face in gray brownish yellow
torn pages - out of the book
That look that look
Black eyes black hair no smile
Playful hand to camera - no
Mostly a child in your arms
The film on page grew cold to touch
Your sullen cheeks in my hands - go
Last saw you color real life RGB
Sickness made you fallow
What color harrowed tired worn flesh?
Back to that brownish yellow
Oct 6, 2013
Oct 6, 2013 at 8:00 PM UTC
the music was playing so lovely then it found a scratch. found a scratch. found a scratch.
and when it was so lovely
that music in my head
the wild din, swoosh round about from being a kid
and then, the record found a scratch. a scratch. a scratch.
mom's song she sang to me in her arms was beautiful dreamer. beautiful dreamer.
scraaaaaaatch.
the song became out of key.
lullaby baby, gonna make you cry. here's auntie schizophrenia.
we will welcome her into our song, too.
auntie schizie sounds like the scraaaaaaaaatch.
the scratch in my young mind. in my mind.
i'm bloated with memories.
words said,
mistakes made,
wrong choices.
can't dance no more you see: the record is scratched.
no daddy don't look. i'll hide away. hide away.
towels under the door. covered in clothes. shower in fear.
the record scratch again. the record scratch again.
the music once came from riding in his wheelbarrow. carefree. music.
become a teen and the record scratched.
i dreamed i held August in my arms.
Held her tight and cried into her thick black hair. i held her so tight.
i miss you.
the record scratched.
it was music once. i thought it would always be there.
but the record once again scratched.
so now the pills make music. like angels in my brain.
i dreamed God allowed me to hear His Holy choir.
Sounds like nothing else. Music. No scratches anymore. The music is inside.
I wish He'd pluck me out, but He will not.
He doesn't love me enough to take me in time. and so, the record will scratch.
these pills in my head right now and music again.
sweet.
harmony.
light.
float.
yesterday they made me shake, sweat, fight my sleep.
he held my shaking body. unsure. he can't know.
he wants to fix it.
i keep it hidden.
it will scratch his record and end his music too.
pluck pluck scratch scratch.
the music was playing so lovely then it found a scratch.
found a scratch.
found a scratch.
Aug 25, 2013
Aug 25, 2013 at 9:02 AM UTC
i lay myself before you
in my finest dress
this cold embrace - it's welcome now
eyes sewn shut
lips are sealed
i take my secrets to this end
hypocrisy to the earth
let me seed and grow
let truth sprig to twig
then tree then bough
to leaf that falls
upon your lips
with truth
Mar 23, 2013
Mar 23, 2013 at 12:34 PM UTC
I want that thing between your legs.
the whole grand scale of it.
the promises of it.
the taste of it.
I need that thing behind your chest.
the whole of it
deepest of all of it
the containment of it.
I long to be that girl.
who has the flesh of it.
who is the being of it.
- just to be it.
I need that thing between your legs
I must serve it.
I must **** it.
I must have all of it.
If that's all of you I get
I must have all of it.
Feb 10, 2013
Feb 10, 2013 at 11:52 PM UTC
She was beautiful -
The ultimate pill.
She brought peace and rest
To the relationship.
When she held my hand,
I could feel forever in her grip.
She was enticing -
The ultimate cure.
She would hold me in her arms
And I would sleep.
Where ever she went,
I could see people wanting her.
She was dangerous -
The deepest cut.
She could kiss my lips and
My body would go numb.
If she offered me a knife,
I would die for her.
She was beautiful -
The ultimate thrill.
Aug 17, 2010
Aug 17, 2010 at 9:18 PM UTC
he talks too much in the morning
not even over coffee
not even over my listening ears
barrage of questions
thundering past my consciousness
i simply do not hear.
my mind is else where.
in someone elses coffee
in anothers ears
banging of hearts
clasping hands parting like waves
i simply do not live there.
taking for granite the days
was it really just seven months
how did we let this happen
i stir my coffee
drawing pictures of memories in the foam
i simply stare at the wall.
oh, i hear him again
what do you think of this
when do you think you will
i look up and smile
hiding my face
i simply do not live here.
Aug 17, 2010
Aug 17, 2010 at 9:15 PM UTC
I am the Aphrodite
Goddess
Woman
Lover
Mate
From my double D’s
To scarred up knees
The pistol whipped
Stamen ready
Lady your wife
Warns you about
My mouth is open
And eyes wide shut
Speaking truths
Most cannot fathom
Perhaps
Ignore
Flower blossom
Open wide
Blooming in my winter
A goddess
Addict
Mind of a lady
And ***** face
Fire in your belly
Ice in my veins
From polished nails
To scented hair
Shaved skin
Smooth
All lady
With an attitude
I have lived
Enough hell
To know my
Heaven
A religion
Between my thighs
The Goddess
Of inhibition
Flash of animal
In my eyes
I dig my nails
Deep
Inside pink flesh
And whisper
What you want to hear
So here’s your lady
A *****
A *****
Queen for a day
And lifelong
*****
Aug 17, 2010
Aug 17, 2010 at 9:11 PM UTC