He shuddered at my beauty—
sad but flattering, like it is.
And how I long to be a cat,
that lives in an antique shop.
Jul 19, 2018
Jul 19, 2018 at 1:04 AM UTC
How many times I've rode down this road on a stolen bicycle...
I know it sounds ****** up but I did what I had to,
and I'm tired and I'm cold
and maybe been broken.
Oh, Archer, oh.
Oh, golden sun,
your forgiving light,
it's warm
and I am cold.
Sep 12, 2017
Sep 12, 2017 at 12:21 AM UTC
My lord, standing fast,
with flourishing orchids private.
Love, faded spectral being, leave your grave of satin
for the warm blood of the sleeping at last.
Night-walking and undead,
skin, firm as steel.
May 6, 2017
May 6, 2017 at 11:59 PM UTC
The spring scent of flowers is rousing, heady.
I'd like for the blossom petals to rest upon my eyelashes such as a snowflake.
In my hair. And I can see my shadow hips gyrating with the rhythm of a cat, slow and smooth.
Apr 23, 2017
Apr 23, 2017 at 4:19 PM UTC
I spill beer on myself unashamed,
I like for liquid to run from my mouth,
like a lord drinking wine from a horn.
Summer nights soon,
where things dry quickly,
and I'll taste things in my throat
and smell them on my pants
for nights to come.
Inhale.
Exhale.
Living for the nights where shuddering ceases,
and one can throw a rock from a rock
in the warm moonlight.
Mar 15, 2017
Mar 15, 2017 at 3:30 AM UTC
Cloven coffee-
today the butte was shrouded in fog,
and my body was woke
so that I wanted to beg for it.
But I won't.
I can't live without the torture,
can't survive without the taste of blood.
I will be a bride to the indelible stickiness,
a lover to that which blooms.
Hold me, hold me, hold me.
I am shaken.
Nov 26, 2016
Nov 26, 2016 at 10:33 PM UTC
Burning up the road,
a relic in my ashtray,
burning up a cigarette,
a trace of sage smoke
makes me feel I am inhaling your essence.
To possess you in my lungs,
if only there,
I will swallow up your significance,
and hold it inside of me.
Apr 17, 2016
Apr 17, 2016 at 4:08 PM UTC
Lone pine lorn
is my heart.
Willowy, hanging, tangled
is my hair.
Dim light, we kept apart.
Rejoice;
thinking of skin, bare.
Bewildered I have felt before,
but nothing such as this.
Adore, ardor, my centaur-
deep molasses kiss.
Mar 27, 2016
Mar 27, 2016 at 8:18 PM UTC
Playing cards, a time out of mind...
'Playing with embers', he said,
filled with sun,
in my mind I am already Hell-ward,
to hell.
My cheeks enflamed,
a burnt offering of shame.
As my own darkness engulfed me
I looked to the Archer of Light,
whose blunt bolts (belonging to the bow),
and shrouded, virile, animus intention
has already bore through mine own virtue.
And whose prospering scepter of ambition
I felt, once,
in a dream somewhere,
pressed, blistering against my form.
Feb 22, 2016
Feb 22, 2016 at 9:00 PM UTC
Looming life of doom.
How I miss you, cursed one,
who bleeds my own blood.
Feb 14, 2016
Feb 14, 2016 at 8:19 PM UTC