Log here for the day:
...Don't you love me?
I have your sin sweat in one hand
and soft crush held sweet the other.
I will play you like the violin
riding raucous your approval.
Your cynicism is the iron of the building.
Edged jagged in hegemony, light casts *** on your delicacy.
I will scribble wildfire across the edifice's crumble,
dip my feet in its ashes as they cool.
Sacrifice the suffer civil
to darkness my home in glow.
Darling,
Grasp me firm as the destructive singsong you fling at me.
I can make no promises.
Admission to my heart's conquer
will stream bitter through my teeth in sweet.
Nov 5, 2013
Nov 5, 2013 at 5:41 PM UTC
*"I wish my brain was a more efficient food processor!"
cries the wide-eyed boy, arranging play-doh on a platter.
I wish he'd lick the salt off my toes.*
I am the aching in all of my joints.
I have no 'where' to go but anywhere.
*Please, let me go.
Please, let me in.
Please, let me let you let me in.
Oh please - don't ever let me let you let go of me again.*
The pieces are assembled, but the puzzle never quits. It wants to shatter
*A huge mouth in space drags deep the destruction of its rippled birthing.
Velocity swings hips, to display our treasured variables.
Soft-served in glittering whirlwind,
I feel the needles underneath me
before I touch the ground.*
I'm carrying the mallet, but my movements pool
before I can release them. I'm melting, without a trace
Nov 5, 2013
Nov 5, 2013 at 4:54 PM UTC
Exchanging
recommendations under flickering lights ! we transpose the nature
? of our insect-like movements
$
with the slick of our collars,
our dull-shine badges.
Eye
makeup
arrayed in sheens
to blow your eye's burn
away
back into
the cold of space,
where you belong
the skirt of the star's burn,
to sear you (un)clean
without alarm.
with a certain sweltering silent charm
Somewhere, saturations swell
in non-
casual ******** singsong.
Klarity is substantiated.
Forgive a whiff into cigarette dust.
Into reticulated (t)rust.
✙
How many leaves
connect
to form the tree's glow?
I'm sorry for asking
now
*I must go*
...
Forbidding madness
with a
keen
brow-
bent
glare
ballroom harpies
chase you backwards
down
a
flight
of
stairs
.
.
.
*what is this caution
here cushioning me
porous like bed foam
harm eating me slowly*
?
smirking consistent smart
a loneliness for hatred
.
.
.
Tear me up for what is holy in me
crumpled 'piss-poor' regard, it's a satin-shure smile
I am churning and I know (not the exit)
Nov 5, 2013
Nov 5, 2013 at 4:23 PM UTC