Lips dance like raindrops on a car window
(set the scene: fog, island, river, rain)
the rain the lips dancing towards isolation
A lion in a coma
missing prey in sweet dreams of undrained blood, skin
lacking a pure bite of crooked teeth
Wrists snap towards a limb of another body,
a separate body moored to a dock - one heart, two sets of teeth -
*** sweat, skin, DNA absorbed and merging
A beast upon the throne of bronze
his claws dig deep through the velvet cushion
oh, how much the taxpayers compromised for that
you wretched maniac, may you marry rich - if you don’t marry me
Jan 3, 2015
Jan 3, 2015 at 11:27 PM UTC
Mixing your whisky breath,
your unshaven cheeks,
your liquored-down smile
in an orange bottle labeled B.
WITHDRAWAL withdrawal withdrawal
Advice from a man with unshaven cheeks, a ring around his eye, and a cross near his breast.
*Withdrawal from him, be careful, withdrawal from him you’ll see.*
Clenched fists and a bouncing ball of hair, tied, atop my head
Sundays are slow, a holy ****** awaits.
They teach we aren’t supposed to be here.
They teach this is not home.
Everyone is temporary, and
the concept of forever: my methadone.
But he’s only a pain reliever, you see.
Dec 19, 2014
Dec 19, 2014 at 10:28 PM UTC
concrete slams across my shoulder blades as you press your body against mine
an outside invasion;
oppression
my hands climb to my lips warding off the gin and wine of your
kiss
it poisons me as you reach to grab my flesh
I should’ve turned to coffee and water;
velvet nights of smooth moonlight and a bitter windchill
God whispered warnings of you
across my thighs, near your neck
gin and wine
it’s you and me, mixing liquor with jealousy
fabricated curls and a whitened smile
you stand towering over me
asserting deceitful dominance at every chance
yet darling,
I’m
Nov 10, 2014
Nov 10, 2014 at 8:45 PM UTC
A heart full of wine
and liquor-spotted lips.
A backless dress
and an inch to breathe.
Inch of garment, inch of air
suffocating underneath starlit blue
I, an abstract decoration, in your cabin of lies.
Touched me when you felt it, as if I was the skin
of a bear draped over a bookshelf,
murdered and witnessed first-
hand. Red.
Do it ‘cause you love me
The pillow, a shade of red,
you placed beneath my hair, curling it between fingers.
Pouted whispers across my neck
Do it ‘cause you love me
Slyness and sadness gleaming in your left eye.
A birthmark on your bicep, the hue of mulch surrounding flowers
holding flowers in place
Roots with a fixed circumference
Petals with a uniform height
Silk of a widow’s nightgown never did compare
to the softness of your skin on my skin, hands, lips, body whole
oh, dear, oh dear an entire body blanketing mine.
Your stance, superior, and I, an invalid, counting cars and
tracing with my eyes the plaid of boxers.
A predator recovering from a pounce.
Purple veins pierced through skin,
a sunrise just below layers of naked,
parallel lines racing through wrists, legs, a forehead
differing shades of her own hair envelope her fingers,
delicate and stronger, two limbs of power.
Her body breaks; rubble in a storm.
The town’s on fire, my love. Lightning
struck dust on the south building.
God is real, living within your color.
I wanted your temper (I’m sorry) tempest to
flood me with heat, scalding my ribs
and charing all flesh.
Patiently waiting for renewal,
and you didn’t.
Lavender veins,
my hair was the darkest black,
and I faded into shadows
following you.
A dumb little girl who took her ******* off whenever you said she could.
Oct 16, 2014
Oct 16, 2014 at 6:49 PM UTC
fortunate dreams, folded within security and affluence
a laundry pile of capital
you’ve tried and succeeded
prosperity, wealth, Constitutional rights in abundance
American dreams lay thriving, slithering between your fingers like sludge
nice sludge though
snow crystals rest upon the sludge, decorating it for the holidays
barren attempts to take hold of opportunities, you didn’t really try
efforts lay unmade, like the bed he shared with you
penniless
inferior in the corner of the kitchen
last night’s events crawling across the tile towards you
running over stains and chips, creating unshaped perfect squares
a city on fire; flames stumbling in the breezes
Oct 6, 2014
Oct 6, 2014 at 9:11 PM UTC
A heart full of wine
and liquor-spotted lips
I can’t remember the last time we kissed or how long it lasted for.
Yesterday’s makeup across a sham of a smile
I always catch a glimpse of you on Sundays; it’s where you used
to hold my hand and trace secrets across my forearm.
Daisies stripe the path we ambled again and again until the grass was embedded
with stumbling prints of your neon Nikes and the soft tap of my feet.
I still feel you in my veins
The toxin levels rise; I watch it on the monitor.
A plastic bracelet wraps my wrist too tight, the way your left hand did.
I expected you to burst like a volcano
and flood me with heat, scalding my ribs
and charing all flesh.
I waited for you to make me new,
and you didn’t.
My hair was the darkest black,
and I faded into shadows
following you.
Sep 22, 2014
Sep 22, 2014 at 9:05 PM UTC
beast, you are.
What will become of me?
You devour my chest, a beat slithers down your throat.
***** black-painted nails grabbed at your fur,
smooth as the silk of a widow’s nightgown,
yet now they rest among an internal *****
The moon smirks.
She’s proud.
Her disciple is showing his scripture through
action.
Sep 6, 2014
Sep 6, 2014 at 11:55 PM UTC
it’s inevitable
we are two waves crashing upon one another from diverse directions
6 feet overpowering a near five
an abundance of sand collected in her toes, painted sunset in season
salt in the crevices of his cracked lips
he hasn’t drank since March
wildflowers on her dress and holes in his shoes
it’s faulty
we are racing towards riverbanks: barefoot, unsteady, and homely
this doesn’t feel like home
he’s a moonlit tower, prewar stairwells, and a bright white nail bed
she secretes meteors in her pockets and a jackknife
slopes and curves and hills to stumble
words and doorknobs and photographs to wonder
it’s vexed
we headline in bold faced Georgia
friends concerned themselves with each petty fight
oh, boy did we
fight until her tongue wore out
his palms scratched to be healed by hers
her mother was on board, she guessed; his mother said yes
it’s bereft
we’re naked on the South lawn
a rose brush picked, prodded, called to question
her hazel eyes lack the ability to cry and cry and cry
his voice, stripped of rage
politics behind the scene
a young widow’s desperation for peace
it’s mass-produced
we’re political maps facing the chalkboard
colored crayons and heel-high socks
pepperoni’s dot her pizza the way she dots her i’s
as she writes lyrics of you
he raids the kitchen for her, prying the fridge for her
glinting sparkles in artificial light
it's submitted
we’re chipped steel bracelets
her straw bends forward at a crease
they didn’t realize what factors meant
his version too close to candor
yielded, the missing L on a paper sign
a stranded guitar pick balancing atop city grates and a below ground maze
it’s whatever it may be
and may be whatever it’s
but she and he and I and you
we perch on seven lines of fact
like birds we wallow, and trees we droop
‘til the ending sunrise
where you figure the truth
Aug 23, 2014
Aug 23, 2014 at 8:03 PM UTC
Ruby red slippers, rich with passionate love
for you, dear state, as I search your land,
grazing the colors, the life, and the mystery
of weeds choking gravestones, tangling the dead.
But you, dear state, yourself is so gentle.
Kansas, you stretch to ****** my curls;
to stroke my tender cheek with a
flock of sunflowers, blooming vivid gold and
a mizzle of musicality, too high, too loud for me.
Your screams of country overwhelm me.
Why you, dear state, never treat us to
tangles of concrete nor mazes of glass?
Kansas, your heaven gives me migraine.
Aug 10, 2014
Aug 10, 2014 at 9:59 PM UTC
Poetry’s carved into her flesh,
intertwined with her ribs
and parasitic on her brain, the softest ***** now that her thrashing chest hardened.
It’s the thorn of a plastic rose, jabbing her distinct print, and
analogies crawling down to her jaw line,
sprawling at individual forks of two points; it was always only two.
Melodic qualities burgled her mind to
exist in ubiquity throughout her pores
and soiled strands of hair pinched with a tie ten centimeters from the root.
Poetry, disobedient and sovereign,
lived to spell a testimony
individual to her since no one breathed her air.
Aug 2, 2014
Aug 2, 2014 at 7:12 PM UTC