Straddled, lovingly, fibers needle into bone
Your anxiety of anticipation,
How I wish it were potable,
So I may drink the terror I have bred in you
I perch above you, heinous desires for your flora to overrun my entrails
Of all the silt eyes in the world, yours are the darkest
Pining for your validation,
For your attention,
As withered roots desperately crawl towards the damp soil
But your heart is barren of solicitude
And so I will soak the soil with your blood.
This charming man,
So cunning, and so wise
If it is not I who fulfills your ****** appetite,
No one will.
Undergrowth impels into irrigated bushes
Hedonism, even as your eyes paint such terror inimitable to capture in brush strokes
Voraciously, desperately,
It builds, the adrenaline, the bliss,
And into me you are, fulminating, everything your pedigree can give
I raise the steel, and I am unafraid
For my calloused hands have been soiled for generations
Plunging,
Squelching,
Broken yawps.
Your lineage,
Cradled by forever empty organs,
Is just as barren as your soul.
As your gore suffocates your lungs,
And my tongue caresses my blade,
I watch those silt eyes turn even darker
You will expire in me,
And no one will have you again.
Feb 24, 2025
Feb 24, 2025 at 1:57 AM UTC
Confined in a cage, I gaze across waters
The flesh of two becomes one,
As they sway and glide in the absence of quarantine
Fresh meat dangled before my eyes
My gardens are lifeless, and dessicated
My hands cannot fit through the bars
The essence of infancy locked inside with me
He is mine, formed of stardust and altruism
Yet he weeps dejection
The lake is filled with unions,
Who dance alongside me
The stars refract from silken gowns and ties
There are no bars for the bonded,
I am isolated in my entanglement,
Yet their shoulders rest easy
Disparaging words waterfall from their lips,
I fear I may drown in the ocean they've filled
"Thou own venereous ways bind you to thy cage"
Though hands reach to me, thorned in lechery,
I decline with words, and beg with flesh
I immured myself inside
For the infancy, and his frail form
Remain only extant in the womb of my captivity
Feb 20, 2025
Feb 20, 2025 at 11:53 PM UTC
You are the honey hidden in the comb;
And the fuzzy bee butts that buzz close by your ears.
You are the smell of honeysuckles;
And the candied memory of the aftertaste of its juices.
You are cheerful piano melodies, of chords that bop and swing;
And the pep when the pianist catches the rhythm.
You are all that is golden in the world.
Both soft and hidden;
And bold and salient.
Jan 5, 2025
Jan 5, 2025 at 1:13 PM UTC
To crave,
Wails of agony, voices soaked in terror?
Call after call, message after message.
Care, love, sympathy?
Succor, surveillance, support?
Tear after tear, hands shaking and grasping?
Pity, solace, warmth?
To receive,
Levigating guilt, being disintegrated.
Evanescensing from reality.
Blood clotting and drying.
Those who are paid to give care,
Who seem as though sympathy;
Hadn't glazed over their eyes in decades.
A room so cold and sterile,
That not even the warmth of my breath
Could stop my bones from shivering under my skin.
Desolating abandonment,
Hums of fluorescent lights,
In chorus with sobs of despondency
It isn't what I wanted.
But it is what I deserved.
Aug 24, 2024
Aug 24, 2024 at 2:40 PM UTC
If my love could heal,
the faded traumas
which adorn your skin
would expire
If my love could heal,
you wouldn't pleasure yourself
to the idea
of her suicide
If my love could heal,
you'd feel your mother's absent love
through the cracks
in my lips
If my love could heal,
maybe I'd learn to heal myself
before others
And then maybe;
I would've healed myself
before a predator
Aug 14, 2024
Aug 14, 2024 at 10:33 PM UTC
My little lover,
Honed steel wielded to my flesh
As your hands restrict
Mar my skin,
I implore
My little lover,
I beseech my lifes water
To know the folds of your tongue
To taste my lineage
After it has bred with your saliva
Oh my little lover,
Not all is of sword unto sheath
Though your seed could flood my gardens;
Not all is of drowning
Or of blooming
Oh God,
My little lover
I beg for that which is wielded
To whiten my flesh
In the silhouette of your name
Aug 4, 2024
Aug 4, 2024 at 10:07 PM UTC
To your skin,
I write a thousand sonnets;
She recalls the rain.
To your smell,
I sigh a hundred ancient songs;
She sticks to me like toffee.
And oh,
To your eyes ...
To drown in silt stardust,
To smother in her hues.
To your hands,
I bow in thorns and roses;
She's grasped flesh and bone.
To your lips,
I grow ten dozen lilacs;
She carries the taste of your breath.
And oh,
To your voice ...
To asphyxiate in words,
To choke in her cadence.
And just as your veins will be empty of blood seven decades from now,
The tender love is fleeting.
But the rain still falls,
And the bones remain.
Aug 4, 2024
Aug 4, 2024 at 10:06 PM UTC
why am i always out of ideas when i want to write?
this poem is ******
goodnight.
Mar 16, 2018
Mar 16, 2018 at 12:59 AM UTC
You stir through the room,
as if breathing was subconscious.
Your breath never wavers.
I'm acquainted with my breathing,
It's almost never instinctive.
It flickers.
Realistically,
we breathe the same air,
But yours is nimble.
And mine is undexterous.
My air is stagnant,
Breaths are fatiguing.
Lackluster.
You seem to rest on water,
Your movments are graceful.
Ethereal.
I struggle to breathe,
but our realities are different.
You'd never notice,
That I'm drowning.
Jan 31, 2018
Jan 31, 2018 at 4:54 PM UTC
Home.
Home is where you know you belong. It's somewhere warm and cozy.
Home is a safe space. It's where you go when you feel like things are too much.
Home is where you go after a long day. When all you want to do is relax.
Home is a place of many memories. Memories that you cherish so deeply.
Home is where you watch your life piece together.
It's where you smile.
It's where you laugh.
Dance.
Sing.
Cry.
It's where you experience.
But home is not a place. It cannot be bought or sold.
Home is where the heart is.
And my heart is with you.
Jan 26, 2018
Jan 26, 2018 at 5:15 AM UTC