Relax me like a rainy Sunday morning.
Honey at the back of my throat,
divine like Saturday wine

Sleepless nights comfort wounded souls
And I ask God why you left a hole
Perhaps love is not ours to control
But ******* does it hurt.

we strike with venom
when we fear pain.

"You can't run from your problems".

Watch me.

read: 337am

Rage will fill my limbs
Like spring Rapids through narrow bends

pain sits on the rib cage like a soaked white feather blanket
once light and airy, comfortable
now clings to bone like the beginning of fresh decay
arms feel like honey when brushing the weight aside

"are you alright?" she asked sweetly, blush as rose from the sea's reflection

"I think so" her wife feigned a smile, but then ashamedly resumed her true form

in that moment nothing seemed alright
each breath seemed to tighten like a corset
the death of a parent leaves child wayward

lost

the riptide carried sea foam back to where it came from
and seagulls continued to inspect the shore
Mira was livid that time didn't stop

but the redolent smell of BBQ was what turned her stomach
how could people be eating when her mother was gone?
it was repulsive
an artist's nightmare
the trivialities of food and water
when such a deep hole existed.

i want a love that grabs me like Clair de Lune;
oh dance with me beneath the moon
please sway away with me to the tune

you're my signature tune
favorite phase of the moon
sweet tea in June
always gone too soon

And in these days of darkness
We can choose to offer light

she was a wild one
free as the sweet Alaskan air
heart of red poppy

There is nothing he can give to you dear girl,
that you cannot give yourself.

Oh my dear, I am so glad you are here
With fingers so tiny, and duckling soft hair
What a privilege it is to hold you so near!

when the world is against you,
hold yourself closer.

Antique bookends holding it together
and pain holds me down
like skeletal shadows
only threatened by morning light

maybe i should drink the cool aid
play along in the masquerade
oh, you know the tools of the trade?

maybe *** doesn't solve our problems
but I sure feel at home here

thought you were different.

Whatever happened to “with liberty and justice for all”?

You say all lives matter, but you have never known when yours hasn’t

No, because you were born with an invisible knapsack full of privileges

While I was born with imperceptible shackles around my feet

And the system, praise the political system, because it has done you right

Because your self-worth, and your value in society was assigned to you at birth

But you claim you cannot see color,

And the truth is, I believe you

With your white schools, paid for by your white neighborhoods,

Embraced by your white government, sheltered by your white police force

How could you?

But I can see color.

For our jails are darker than the northern Atlantic sky,

While our government is lighter than the hoods slung up by the KKK,

We must embrace the permeation of a rigid political system

Segregation. Cannot. End. Without. Integration.

I'd draw you in
Following the careful line of your jaw
Down your neck
Across your shoulder
Letting the memory mold the natural curvature of your body
Pressing my own subjective view of your ascendant gaze into the back of my mind



Oh, yes my dear I'd draw you
Just to watch you burn

You’re both a man of your word and a man who can command a room without one.
Your confidence merely serves to straighten your posture, I have never caught you looking down.

A yard stick was used to measure where my skirt is supposed to end,
just long enough to make sure that my body did not offend,

You see it wasn’t lady like to dress in that way,
or to play video games where the premise was merely to slay

The only coding I ever came to understand,
was any form of foul language, of which was tacitly banned

You argue that women are inherently more cooperative,
To which I would argue that humans are merely imitative

While women are no longer obliged to do housework,
I am, at least in part, merely a product of my international network

I'm Bourbon Street
Locust night
Whiskey slow
Summer hot

And you Maiden Lane
History in your veins
Enough to satiate
Latin lips
That drip Spanish stanzas

passion ripples through her veins
but shes constantly running from its pain
perhaps that's why April brings the rain

I will own your soul.

Perhaps for just a moment...
As your right hand caresses the page
I will procure your consciousness
As the dishes in the sink rest
As the ceiling fan lethargically laces the room


I will make you feel unapologetically alive.

"ain't it funny how life works?" he said.

"nine to five, the radio hums the same song
you pass the same man, the same sign

'anything helps'

the same rain
the same key to the same door
by God, you pray for more

then suddenly, the world stops
nothing is the same
but that *******.i.n.g empty feeling"

Each day of our lives is but a page in the book, do not treat it as if it were the whole story.

I must admit that I am bored.
Utterly bored, actually, with the overly romanticized construct of dominance.
How easily one can claim to be dominant.
Shocking? No.
We as human beings aspire to attain the intangible.
Exponential wealth. Immortality. Fame. Power.
We live in a world of illusion and fallacy.
We drive cars that we can’t afford,
often to jobs that we despise.
We attain validation through the media,
from blasé people that require it in return.
What I have found- and take this for what you will,
is that my longing for external dominance is simply a translation for
“By god please take control, and ground me to something real.”

Across the sea upon a foreign land
In a language you could not understand
A daughter asked a father
How much longer?

And with a weary grin fixed to his face
He told his love about the place
Where freedom sung
Like church bells

The art of deceit
is within eyes that
tell only the shallowest of lies.

Between piths of grey
and dark harbor nights
God speed to those in your light.

your memory
hurts my heart
in slow motion.

when a wolf's hackles raise
nobody dare ****
for beast may bound upon thy neck
well sweet boy please understand
watch the ground upon your trek
for karma runs within the water
and when the river runs dry
lambs will face an unknown slaughter
blood on wool
you fool.

Love sits next to you
Like warm sun on summer swing
And I thank God for morning light
Next to your calm heart beat

Black craft paper in hand, you watch as the snowflakes land
Your kindergarten teacher explains that each one is "beautiful and unique"
But now as you look in the mirror you can see neither

When you were little you used to love to catch lightning bugs
You would watch them float in the Mason Jars, as the July air kissed your cheeks
But you don't notice the seasons anymore, do you?

For you, time passes unnoticeably
Lost between the coffee breaks and the heartaches
You push life aside
Until nothing
is really
left.

He will tell her to kneel
Like a cog in the wheel
Don't dare question or feel

Merely harness her thoughts
Simply bind them in knots
Her time has been bought

I am corrosive
Like the sea, you see
I'll take what's left
If you come near me

Music has the ability to strip us raw.
Regardless of color or creed we are connected through the crescendos that expose our shared vulnerabilities.

and dance beneath the chickaree
for when it is all said in done
life has no guarantee.

Love doesn't die,
It rests like dust.

Kick the stars he said
Their dust will grace the mountain
Let their light bring day

write ****** poetry
throw your ideas at the white wall
allow poor grammar to decorate broken stanzas
and let thoughts expand, urban sprawl
give pain a place to rest its feet
before slaughtering it
with red ink

Means falling apart.

thunder rolls
like the sleeves on your sweater
here I am hoping for better weather
I had a conversation with God
he told me he didn't know
and that just didn't seem right
but maybe if I hold on just a little longer
my future will look a little more bright

hurt me
so i can say i told you so

Harley Quinn in Pop-Deco,
in padded rooms her nightmares echo.

write as if your heart
were your lungs at the summit
then gasp for air, breathe

when the smoke clears
and silence rings like static
Oh, shotgun in September
to my broken heart

crush my breath
like coal canary
Leave me gasping

red claws on your wrist
Was it truly her you kissed?