Definitely not the type of girl to plant
flowers on a window sill, the type to carry
softness on her shoulders or a desire to witness
hesitant, supernatural births of new morning suns with
enchantment. She was a trigger
aimed at empty clay pots, balancing
on balconies and devouring emptiness as if volume alone
would make her feel satisfied.
And her body held as much sentiment
to her as a graveyard, skin crawling in an empty house
she carried in her head. Everywhere she went
stormy impermanence concatenated
with the things she tried so voraciously to erase, like
tethers
tying her name down to insipid figures, like
beginning chapters of stories
she didn't want to hear
with a protagonist
too similar, too homespun,
to herself.
Perhaps she had intention of detonating in
her final, grand exit strategy, an elaborate move
where the Queen conquered escapism, but now
but now
no one will ever know.
Sep 20, 2015
Sep 20, 2015 at 7:05 AM UTC
"Your body, beats
Your name, maims
Your scent, suffocates
Your smile, slays
Your voice, violates
Your lips on mine are like a knife in my spine
Your skin, stings
Your eyes, paralyze
Your hair, hurts
Your mind's, unkind
Your cuteness, cuts
Your beauty's, brutal..
But even now, after stating all the attributes that I loath.. I truly can't think of one thing about you, that I don't love.."
Sep 20, 2015
Sep 20, 2015 at 6:58 AM UTC
The dizzying effect of
your fingertips
has set my mind at ease
To foreshadow the moon
and your crystalline lips
as the whispers descend
on the breeze
Could your heart beat still?
For everything will
culminate the sins of the day
For my delicate abandon
will completely command us
with love
I shall never betray.
Aug 29, 2015
Aug 29, 2015 at 3:35 PM UTC
Pretty little pantomime
I'll give you a nickel
if you'll give me a dime
For what it's worth,
an infinite junk -
a plausible answer to the
poison you've drunk.
Creation to me,
without your denial
could never create
your inebriate child
But hush, dear heart -
the moon's been low
Forget the nonsense
here begins my show.
Aug 29, 2015
Aug 29, 2015 at 3:28 PM UTC
You are my passion
divine influence
under the moon
between my lips
you are infinite
and I would die for
the likes of you.
Aug 29, 2015
Aug 29, 2015 at 3:26 PM UTC
I miss being kissed
Miss the way its unexpected
strangely exquisite mundane
to know
there are lips
waiting
loving
needing
your own
Not so much for the own desire
maybe for the satisfaction
inky safe preoccupation
of proving
your existence
deliverance
and desirability
and to not be alone.
Soft skin, a subtle glance,
it is this that I miss.
She needs to be kissed.
Aug 29, 2015
Aug 29, 2015 at 3:23 PM UTC
I am too close
to the ever-pressing silence
that dominates the mood of my life.
Eerie jackals pass me in the hall
hungry
for a taste.
Blank stares and quiet skies
interlude
with an electric hum.
Why do I cringe?
at the thought of a
multitude of realities -
My jungle has no king.
Tender flesh exposed
most delicate in your countenance
I don't know your name
and there are too many of you
to begin with, so I can't end.
Impressions upon the mind
carved deep
with chisel and talon
Release me from this depth
too thick, like a humid morning
with an empty white sheet
staring back across the way.
That quiet sky speaks
no more as I wander
near the shore
Thunderous emptiness
rumble and control me
In the distance, an echo
returning from my silence.
I am too close.
Aug 29, 2015
Aug 29, 2015 at 3:19 PM UTC
There is a sweet pain in mapping the history of our coupling.
meter by meter, each grassy
embrace and sand-filled kiss
charts a curious and comforting record.
Stolen moments, a theft
of space, a conquering
of body and mind. Dying leaves
cover a multitude of our sins
That copse of trees
my birthday gift, my knees
quivered and felt
barely tethered to the ground
Stars wheeling above
us and behind my eyelids
as I came, shuddering
my pulse the steady swift thrum
of a deep cello chord, velvet-rich
against the muscle of your tongue
my spasming thighs, reluctant
to let you go
always.
By daylight cars
come and go
oblivious to the chapel,
the consecrated ground we made
Desire, our religion
lust, our communion.
I baptized
the upholstery of your truck
sweet abandon - my satisfied
cries a catechism.
Sing Hosanna in the highest
for every delicate sigh
you've wrought from my naked body
This, then, is Eden -
every inch I survey I see
us naked, worshipping, with
greedy hands and mouths
by silver moonlight
The grunts and moans of
our ******* a hallelujah,
a psalm.
My temple, your body
My pulpit, your ***** **** -
your salty skin
In this worship, I am
perfect - my sermon
most holy -is an entreaty
Love me,
Heal me,
Make my weary body alive again.
Amen.
Amen.
Aug 15, 2015
Aug 15, 2015 at 3:28 PM UTC
I do not love you as if you were salt-rose, or topaz,
or the arrow of carnations the fire shoots off.
I love you as certain dark things are to be loved,
in secret, between the shadow and the soul.
I love you as the plant that never blooms
but carries in itself the light of hidden flowers;
thanks to your love a certain solid fragrance,
risen from the earth, lives darkly in my body.
I love you without knowing how, or when, or from where.
I love you straightforwardly, without complexities or pride;
so I love you because I know no other way
than this: where I does not exist, nor you,
so close that your hand on my chest is my hand,
so close that your eyes close as I fall asleep.
Aug 15, 2015
Aug 15, 2015 at 2:53 PM UTC
Reduced to the sum of
our parts - the need
greater than whole
Numbers seem petty - a
fraction of the equation
Tangent, the shape of our
bodies all angles, bending
lines, the radius shifting
in sweaty palms.
In simpler terms,
the addition of objects
one plus one equals two
But such simple terms
do not apply here
My theorum has no solution,
no order, needs none
Irrational numbers are far
more interesting to me.
Aug 13, 2015
Aug 13, 2015 at 2:58 PM UTC