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Kitt Jul 2017
The warmth of your embrace
Haunts my dreams to keep
I think of little else to case
Waking soundly or fast asleep

Your eyes are crystal clear
Glistening in the golden sun
My heart beats fast when you are near
For me you are the only one

Do not turn your face from me
Do not casteth me away
Your absence makes my heart flee
In your presence, my heart will stay

You make me feel so safe, so warm
Do you hear the words I say?
Before the utterance had been formed
My lips murmur a blissful bray

Hold me in your softened hands
Keep me close to your beating heart
Side by side, we shall forever stand
Never to let go, till death do we part
Kitt Dec 2020
one: "mom"

crossing the line she had drawn in the sand
cussing me out from holding my hand
these rules and lies all she made up
her chalice of fire scorching my cup

rue the day she came to know
the silent demon hid in my soul
pushing memories out of the way
and succumb to a chasm of arid dismay

two: "rules"

forget the burning in your *****
forget the cursed mine of coins
forget the lashings from her lips
forget the sinner b'twixt my hips

eyes that sting when open too long
voice that scratches when given song
bodies that itch for cursed delights
heart that relates pleasure and fright

three: "Mary"

blessed are they that feel the burn
holy is she that ignores the yearn
but what should she get for crossing her thighs?
not honor nor respect, but labor and sighs

'sainthood becomes her,' the elders all say
'so honest! so pure! and see just how fair!'
whilst only yesterday they'd cursed the *****
remanded to outcast; covered no more.
Kitt Mar 8
be not afraid as you sink into the void
for it holds no danger to you now.
the darkness that threatened is your enemy
no more.
out from the void comes a sparkling light
you have made it. you have done the impossible
and now you may rest.
Kitt Sep 2017
Faces that pass along in the stuffy summer night
See right through me
Though I fight to be seen, to be noticed
Acknowledged as a living breathing entity
I walk along, waiting to be picked up for a second
Inspected for usefulness
And put down again
Expiring my helpfulness again and again

And then I see the shining ray of glory
She steps through the crowd of gray
And addresses me by name
And I lead her down winding paths of Gold and Silver
And she kisses me with her eyes
She makes love to me with her words
I feel her in every depth within me

And then she's gone
Leaving a vacancy in my soul.
Kitt Aug 2017
Chapped lips carry a searing burn
in memory of your scalding kisses
So thus they ache and yearn
throbbing in agonizing reminiscence

As we sought the key that might unstuck
the hallowed steel floodgates of our innocence
We found instead a stroke of bittersweet luck
in respect, I vowed to resist my own appetence

I meet you here in the overgrown tangle of garden
that once nurtured what I let fall to waste
Under the pale moonlight laden in pardon
that I beg from you as I crave another taste

Smashing my precious memories
shattering my gears
Now I beg mercy of my former self
as she caves to icy fears.
Kitt Sep 2023
Teeth sink into cold flesh
Piercing thin skin
The crunch of triumph rings:
devour me whole
Leave nothing behind
but the rotting, browning, sugary core
and seeds with a tiny drop
of cyanide
(if ever, in case, the apple bites back).

Break me down to my barest pieces
and root shiftlessly through the rubble
clean house, so they say, and getting
ready for spring
Rid yourself of the taste of me.
Kitt Jun 2022
How can it be that life should be so sweet
What could I've done to earn this greatest gift
That I should have this rarest chance to meet
A soul so kind, who opens up her heart.
Their arms forever opened to embrace
Their words forever ready to uplift
Even her home, that sanctuaried place
Left open-doored to friends who go adrift.
Their voice they raise to advocate for change
To validate, they spread not hate, but love
She lives her life without a trace of shame
She must have been a gift sent from above.
No words I speak nor write could manifest
A friend like her; she really is the best.
Okay so it's not like, the most sophisticated piece I've ever written, but it's the thought that counts, right? Anyway, this sonnet goes out to RF, the love of my life and the only one who keeps me going sometimes.
Kitt Sep 2023
I found healing there
It's like He was speaking to me in my Walk
‘Chew your gum, girl,
For the smells they pump through the pipes is meant to tempt you.
Lascivious meats and unholy spices’
So redeem yourself when you stray
Gosh, heck it all and **** it
But under God, Hell awaits the ******.
‘I am covered by the blood of the lamb
So I shall be saved’
Same chapter, different verse
I am ****** all the same.
Kitt Sep 2023
Purify through fire and fury
Scourge away imperfections
But in doing so, sear away the layers of myself
That I never knew I would miss
Until now, with raw baby flesh left
Pink, bubbling burns.

Sit down, little fool;
These words are not meant for you
Your little ears are too soft and sensitive
For such a scalding reality.
Kitt Oct 2022
They say the ties that bind, wither towards the end
Their witty mottos downplay the love of a friend
“The blood of the covenant,” the adage remains still frozen,
“Flows much thicker than the water of the womb.”
And therefore they deduce: our loyalties reduce
And family only matters when it is chosen.

But the blood relations between man’s nations
Groan under the strain of their bond
For who would have thought that brothers were not
By long and far man’s best creation.
Kitt Dec 2018
The cigarettes that left your mouth
Put burn marks on my arms
The words that left your mouth
Made no marks
But burned just the same

I recoil at the smell
Of anything burning,
Cigars at dinner or fireplaces
Send me into a dark corner of my mind
I lose myself, forgetting why I came.
Kitt Oct 2022
I love with a dangerous, reckless abandon
Fire and no hint of shame
Occasionally with a lover in tandem
I’ll be laughing and crying the same
I fall in and out, seeming at random
And play at love like a game

She, however— quite the contrary—
Travels so slowly she’s almost inert
She approaches my cavern, ever so wary
Afraid that, again she’ll be hurt
Time is her friend, the yellow canary
If it falls silent; she’ll up and desert
Kitt Jan 18
don't eat the green ones,
for they bring upon sudden rain
that slicks the roads on a Q....t night

don't touch the yellow ones,
for they cause mechanisms to fail
upending lives in a matter of a moment

and for God's sake, don't taste the red ones,
for they are laced with poison
far deadlier than cyanide smoke.

hold tight to your coin, the one whose year
adds to thirteen. perhaps it will save you
from the danger of counting to three.

make no plans following your shift
for the gods of fortune do not favor the prepared
nor those who stitch their patches on too soon

you'll come to loathe the moon,
her face, shown in full, driving mad the insecure
and away the rolling lights.

no boots off until midnight,
lest you be called impertinent, and proven so
by the savior bell's ironic sense of humor

follow these rules to survive.
question not why they are told, for it is better
to wonder in safety
than to tempt the unfair Lady known as Luck.
Kitt Sep 2023
I have never feared death
though it lurks round every bend
nor do I fear spiders
or snakes
or things that go
in the night.

I do not fear investments
without returns,
for the investing is worthwhile
in itself.

I do not fear rejection,
nor heartache,
nor pain.
For all three I have experienced
and never have they won.

but you must fear something,
the fates proclaim. for a life without fear
is unbalanced,
and they do not permit their loom
to stretch without give,
nor give without take.

So what is it I fear?
What, or whom, lies in my shadowy nightmares
when I lie awake and dreamless
tossing in the sheets
and plaintively crying out
with nobody to hear?

For when the day comes
with a hand to collect,
I may not have anything to give.
my heart, my flesh, my soul
may be too frail
to pass between us.

That is what I fear.
Not the darkness of the night,
but the soul left wandering
waiting for something
I could never give.
Kitt Dec 2018
I need to see the looming sky
A wide, gasping chasm of color and power
Cold and unfeeling
Hot and passionate
Black fading into red into blue

I need to feel the burning air
Arid and biting on my eyelids
******* the moisture from my skin
And the toxins from my heart
Engulfing me like the embrace of a captor

I need to see the silhouette of mountains
On the striking horizon, eclipsing the void
To gasp in the thin and desperate air
Cacti that claw at the dusty wind, and
Beg for nothing in the kingdom of bones
Kitt Sep 2023
When Charlotte Haze allowed into her home
A monster in unassuming white linen pajamas
Could she have known what he would do
To her daisy-fresh girl, lying among the lilies?

As she bathed in sunshine on the golden shores
Of Hourglass Lake, could she have known
Where his mind was, with the child sent away
Nuptial solitude invaded by his maddened obsession?

Before Mrs. Haze-Humbert left the world,
She found the confession he wrote on silk ribbons
Meant to tie around her neck and then the child’s hair--
Yet her first concern was of how she had been betrayed.

As Charlotte lay dying on the hot concrete
Did she wonder if she might have seen it coming--
Her demise, foretold by his fantasies
Of violence towards her, of brutality for the child?

Which her last thoughts cast towards:
The orphan she now left behind?
Or her own aching heart,
Torn with jealous rage between her love of the girl
And the infidelity of a husband gone astray?
Kitt Mar 2019
Dolly, Dolly, play with me
let's braid your curly hair
dress you up and take you out
where everyone can see

Dolly, Dolly, sleep with me
let's curl up here in bed
I'll be your warmth if you lie still
and give in to my every dream

Dolly, Dolly, look at me
why do you not respond?
I'm calling you, Dolly, dear
why aren't you returning?

Dolly, Dolly, I'm sorry, dear
I haven't time to wait
my fingers ache, my body breaks
I must be leaving here

Dolly, Dolly, buried there
six feet under my creation
Here Lies Dolly, Beloved Plaything
played to death by strangulation.
Kitt Apr 2019
she drinks in his kisses like sips of liquor
more potent than the champagne he pours into her mouth
bubbles rising within her

her vision dips
he gives another sip
her gaze drops
like ***** on the rocks

he's in his feelings now
his temper flares
her wrists are bare
the game goes on

the dance gets sloppier
as the floor gives way
they fall through to the mattress
his arms around her

anger fuels passion from long ago
pulsing his blood
the lights are low and red
there's a heat in the night that burns

there is no more dancing
the steps have turned to caresses
drunk on romance
she breaks the lock on her pants

and by morning she is alone with her hangover
Kitt Mar 2019
unblemished smiles wither swiftly
crisp smile creases line the cheeks
and adorn the eyes
as youth fades into age
and age fades into oblivion
then the rest is dust and ashes.

breath is ephemeral
transcendent, even.
viridity is fleeting
foliage browns even as we speak
and soon folds into a worn leather bag
along with baubles from days of yore.

but there is a moral to the story
that these trinkets tell
they remind those remaining
of what has passed
and what is sure to come again
reminding the new to memorialize the old
and savor each moments as it comes.
Kitt Aug 2019
The emerald stones embroidered into this pouch glitter
by the light of the flames that engulf this city
a baby shoe, tied in a bag of silk
hangs delicately round my neck
my pendant to bring me back to you one day
the sanctified emblem of hope:
el zapato de bebé de una niña robada
a locket, the other half of which you carry
my two identities lost in a crusade de fuego y sogas
One, the baby taken
The other a woman stolen
Mort à la pute! une sorcière! le gitan doit mourir.
my sentence carried out as you watch
just moments after we reunite again
only to have to say Dja devlesa!
My face lit by the burning cathedral
Then slackened by the tightening rope.
Kitt Jun 2022
the girl made of paper sits by the sill
contemplative and morose
she struggles but cannot find the will
to break from her comatose

she dips her eyelashes in kerosene
and strikes the wooden match
when, oh when, will this waking dream
from her living world detach?

fertility hath left her bleeding
those virile meadows scorched
she knows her youth is fleeting
yet she cannot put out this torch

this girl, set ablaze by selfish desire
howls up in wrath at the moon
why, oh why, does this unending fire
burn hottest to those near'st the tomb?
Kitt Apr 2019
Notre Dame is burning
This we all have seen
But Notre Dame’s been burning
For longer than this dream

Families and their children
Have worshiped in her halls
But families and children
Were stolen by its falls

Notre Dame was sacred
For worship and for song
But Notre Dame’s not sacred
As it had not been for long

Maybe this magestic falling
Is what the world must see
It’s this tremendous falling
That may set the children free

Worship moves with ages
No building must we *****
Elaborate walls do serve to hide
Wrongs we can never correct

So mourn her burning if you feel
But spare us the unending plea
For Notre Dame and her ***** deals
Must end before eternity.
The church was a beautiful reminder of tradition and grandeur, but the sercrets that go on within the walls of the Church are better off cremated.
Kitt Jan 2019
When you came into my home,
I felt your gaze lock onto me.
You think I didn’t feel the way
your pale spider eyes stalked me
But I knew, from the moment you cornered me
in the lillies.

When you drew me onto your lap,
I was paralyzed.
Your hands crept closer,
never touching
yet I felt your imagination ***** my thigh
as acutely as though you had struck me
across the face.

You dwelled deep in your elected paradise
while the hell-flames from the sky licked at my limbs
and caressed my body
leaving wounds that would fade into scars
Scars I would carry until the day that I died
in your heart.

You turned my body into a wasteland,
your bubble of hot poison
polluting my heart;
my landscapes scorched
by the fire of your *****
that swept across and broke my life.

You said you could not **** me
--would not **** me-- for
“It was love at first sight,
at last sight,
at ever and ever sight."

But you can always count on a murderer
for a fancy prose style;
you tore me apart
and ripped from within me
my stillborn girl.
This child within me died
and took me along with her

But, fear not, you pentapod monster
for to you, life will go on.
For you, the rest is rust
and stardust.
A Found Poem from Nabokov’s ‘******’
Kitt Jul 2017
A baby clutches his mother’s dress
Unaware of how it will save his life
Unwary of the saving grace that will come to rest
The child is soft and clean
His name is Eugenius, the second of three
After Richard, before Michal
He is just a babe, no bigger than an infant can be

A toddler clutches his mother’s dress, the hem
Unaware of tragedy
Unwary of the Horror that awaits him
The child is frightened and shaking
His name is Gene, the second of three
After Richard, before Michal
He is just a little one, no taller than Mama’s knee

A child clutches his mother’s hand
Unaware from behind her skirt as they are herded
Unwary of the disaster to come from the cart
His name is Genie, the second of three
Before Mikey, after Richie
He is just a child, no higher than Tata’s knee

A boy holds his brother’s hand tight
Unaware of the danger he is in
Unwary that the coin from Mama’s skirts will save his life
The boy is healthy and strong, though not for long
His name is Gene, the second of three
Before Michal, after Richard
He is naïve, but soon to grow up prematurely

A prisoner holds his own shirt, unsure
Unaware of the pain that is coming
Unwary that he shall walk away nevermore
The prisoner is hurting and ******
His name is “Gefangene,” the second of two
After Richard, before the crimson mess
He is crying for a ****** towel carried by

A handicap clutches Mama’s leg
Aware that he cannot cry as she shuffles him out
Wary that outside her skirts is the hunt
The handicap is hurting so badly
His name is Gene, the second of three
After Richard, before the new bump
He is unwilling to believe

A kaleka holds tight to his brother’s back
Aware that he is a burden
Wary that he is a load
The kaleka is waiting, waiting.
His name is Gene, second of three
After Richard, before Theresa
The kaleka is ready for release

The dziecko holds again to Mama’s skirt
Aware that he is now free to leave
Wary that he will never be independent
The dziecko is elated and mourning
His name is Gene, the second of three
Before Theresa, after Richard
The dziecko will never be the same

Sixty five years later
Gene holds Rosie’s hand tight
Aware that he is old now, having lived fully
Wary that death is imminent at last
The great-grandfather is peaceful and content
His name is Tata, Grandpa, Gene, husband, and more
He is the last one left of his war
The survivor is ready to reunite with his family
He gives thanks to Hattie’s skirts
That kept him alive though the hurts.
Eugeneus Borowski is my great-grandfather, a child Holocaust victim. This piece is currently featured in the World War II poetry unit in the syllabus of a literature course offered through Northern Essex Community College. The only surviving first-hand account of Gene’s experience is a cassette tape of an interview he gave many years ago.
Kitt Apr 2018
Shame and guilt swallowed me
The heart, once frozen by bitterness, had melted into sorrow

Yet now I stand again, on the edge of life
My peers, the masses
A crowd damning another man to my fate
The price I put upon my own head
When I traded righteousness for rags
It is death You do not deserve  

The judge found you innocent but the jury cried guilty
And despite your record, you were deemed filthy

You, who stands across the world from me
You, who bears no mark of shame
No need to feel shy
No reason to die

Your wrists were punctured whilst mine were freed
As my heart was healed, yours would bleed
It was my tomb they buried you inside
And it was my rock you pushed aside

You, the one I left behind
Stepped forward and take my place
You took the cross
Etched with my blame
Laden with my sin
Cursed by my name

And you didn't dispose of it
You didn't burn it away
You bore its full weight
As I was meant to do
And you carried it
As I was meant to do
And you died
As I was meant to do

And when I ask why, O Lord
You would take my place
Die on my hill
Lie in my tomb
My answer is found in the empty sepulcher
Where my body should forever be

For it is not I
But he
Kitt Sep 2018
It's not the ***.
It's holding your hand in mine
It's the feeling of my head on your chest
And your arm around my neck
Cradling me softly like lovers do.

It's not the ***.
It's the way your eyes,
Your cold blue eyes cut through my body
Whispering to me secrets, about myself
Things I never knew I needed to know.

It's not the ***.
It's not even you, really.
It's your voice, your mannerisms.
The familiarly we share, an intimate sort of history
More intimate than the act itself.

I'm not in love with you.
I don't know if I ever was, in our previous lives.
But here, in this lonely desolate world
Your eyes consume me, and
I think of nothing else.
For BT, my childhood sweetheart.
Kitt Sep 2023
I turned my attention to the water, and I was suddenly struck by the immensity of everything.
“The world is so big,” I said aloud,
more to myself than to him.
He nodded, but I couldn’t shake
the feeling that he just didn’t get what I was saying.
I didn’t mean, “the world is big.”
I wasn’t talking about the vastness of the seas’ endless waters
or the sheer size of the globe we walked on.
I was talking about the infinite
nature of the world, how it was stuffed full
of corners and niches that I would never see.
I imagined all of the homes, filled with love, with shame, with something
in between.
A bee, circumnavigating the area around a wilting tulip.
The involuntary wringing of a grandmother’s hands during tense moments.
A boy practicing violin.
A wedding, a birth, another wedding, a death, a funeral, and the continuation
of life around the hole left by the dead
until the cycle continued so much that the hole was filled.
I imagined the ports where ships docked and ******* between voyages, the cobblestone streets of French towns and the mountainous landscapes of the past.
I pictured dogs, scratching on fences, and a girl
brushing her hair by an open window.
I saw the corners and pockets of life, shared with the world
or kept to oneself. The gaps behind stoves,
the crannies seen only by blind mice and frightened roaches,
the dark tunnels beneath the earth. I saw in a flash the water parks where children played,
the quiet moments of morning coffee reveled in by morning people
who rose before the sun.
I pictured the greasy back-alley of a fast food joint
and realized that, for better or for worse,
I would never see
even a fraction
of what the world had to offer.
Kitt May 2018
I sat by the window and gazed out
at the rain falling down
in torrents and sheets.
The night was black as ink, save the stars;
barely visible behind thick storm clouds,
pinpricks of silver in the ebony scape,
as the rain continued to fall.

I thought of you, of the deliberation in your face
etched into every feature a painful, wavering resolve.
The decision before you:
two fates, the ending, or the prolonging of the time before the terminal predetermined.

I grieved as I remembered the pain in your eyes.
I know you too well. I have seen too much of you
for you to hide this from me. I broke
-a silent cry of realization, collapsing my furrowed brow into a contorted countenance
as I realized that you were gone
not just for now, but for good.

And so there I sat that night,
after I removed the gold chain you rested around my neck
after I scrubbed away the makeup
after I traded my lipsticked smile for a mourning countenance
-I sat, alone in the dark, and gazed out the window into the rain.
I wondered where things had gone wrong.

And so, May showers
drove away April's flowers.
It was all I could do to cry quietly,
face soaked with the saline of sadness
that dripped now on my chest.

Now, I sit again at the window
and the same song plays that had consoled me before
'you'll feel better when you wake up'
And I did.
The sadness stayed safely at the bay
while I tried to channel it again
But this time it wasn't the same.
Though I duplicated the mood down to the clothes I wore,
the heartache was no longer fresh
and my face remained dry.

Sure, I felt sad. But it was not from you.
It was not from a heartbreak or a brokenness.
It was inorganic sadness, brought on by my own need for closure,
the thirst for a goodbye that burned my throat in agony and sorrow
that my parched lips would never find.
Song quoted: "Wake Up" by EDEN
Kitt Dec 2019
The rain came down,
and it keeps coming down,
so nourishing to the parched earth
yet so gloomy and low. It fits the mood.
An event that must happen, for the world to survive
But that, in the moment, only feels like a dreary moodsetter on a blustery day.
It isn’t too dark out. Despite the rain coming down in torrents, it’s still bright.
As I drive along the highway I see that rays of
sunshine are poking out from behind the clouds, and I think that,
somewhere along the distance, from the right vantage, where the brilliant sun rays
hit the storm droplets at just the right angle, there might be a rainbow
Just too far gone down the road for me to see it.
Kitt Jan 31
i never wanted you
to drown yourself in me,
the rain woman.
drip, drip, drop.

i warned you, once upon a time
to don your heaviest boots:
rubber soles to save your soul.
drip, drip, drop.

i am lightning, burning cold
i am thunder, rolling bold
i am a sigh of agitation:
a hurricane, a summer rain
the cool wet mud, a conflagration.

i am a natural disaster
but your lips are cracked and dry
so you saw in me an oasis
drip, drip, drop.

i wanted to see the desert watered
but i never wanted you
to drown yourself in me.
Kitt Dec 2018
gratefulness is the gold fillings
in your cracked porcelain skin
recognition of your brokenness--
not the brokenness itself--
is the beauty in imperfection.

white ripples across your surface become
golden seams. the tectonic design is
a topographical map of scars and stitches;
the adherence of
traits that don't otherwise connect.

"you are beautiful," he tells you as
he kisses each mark softly,
his lips tracing a winding path through
your gardens.

it is not his words that make it so
but they settle just the same
reminding you that it’s not the cracks
that make you glitter
but the gold with which you fill them—
and love.
Kitt Apr 2019
Did Doorthy kiss the Lion's snout
when she parted ways?
Did she lay her fingertips on the cold metal
of the Tin Man's breastplate
Or run her hands through the straw hair
of her friend, the Scarecrow,
Before departing with her slippers back to home?
Did she ruffle her skirts
when the Wizard blew away
most likely to be caught in another Kansas storm?
Did she shed a tear for the melted Witch
and let it fall into the puddle of water and robes?

So must I kiss you goodbye
when the time comes for me
to leave our sanctuary and find my own
far away from the land in which you entrapped me?
Must I pat the monkeys that hung waiting for me
to try to escape your palace?
Must I bow to the guards standing sentry
at the front gates of this prison
where I relive my horrors again and again
watching the movie of my memory replay on the walls
as if projected by a machine meant to remind me forever?
Must I wave my tormentor goodbye,
shielding my eyes as I watch you fade into nothing
into the sun setting over my captivity?
A letter to my former life.
Kitt Sep 2023
Part I

There are parts of me I will not give you, Stranger;
But these parts are not many.
I have always been comfortable in vulnerability.
Or perhaps, I have weaponized it—
To destroy not kingdoms but boundaries:
Confuse the prey and ****** the predator,
until they are one and the same.

Part II

But if I expose my soft underbelly to anyone,
Can it still be considered vulnerability?
How must it feel to be scarred
Again and again
Battered and wounded—
Yet the flesh never hardens against incursion?
To have so much weakness so plainly to see
Easy to touch, even more to make bleed
Bear witness against the truth
Yet shatter all of the doubts—
What lies in the middle, then?
What will the law of averages reveal?
Is that soft underbelly truly so honest and real
Or is it another form of camouflage
Designed to mislead
As the fanfare protects the executioner?

Part III

The armor of insight is deception
Deception that strives to please
For distracting the audience is crucial
To being this kingdom to its knees

So in revealing the war strategy to her enemy
Can a commander be

Part IV

Just who is the enemy, and why does he lurk about?
GR, if you’re still here, don’t read into this one too much. It’s not about you.

The line about the fanfare refers to The Art of Worldly Wisdom by Baltasar Gracián, circa the mid 1600s
Kitt Sep 2023
They ask you again and again,
What happened? Tell me the whole story
And you repeat yourself
Each time thinking it’s been received
But then a new ear, a new clipboard,
And they make you tell it again.

“What happened” becomes more important
Than “what’s happening now?”
Because they care about the mechanism
More than the injury

So what will they do when you go radio silent?
When your heart breaks do you need to rehash how he hurt you,
Again and again for each secondary witness?
At what point does the sordid story end
And the sequel begin?
Or will the pursuit of healing,
The treating of trauma,
Forever be defined by
the mechanism of injury?
Kitt Sep 2023
I love the ambiance, the steady constant of raindrops crashing against the earth
I love how it washes away the pollen and dust
Cleansing the air so I can breathe
I love umbrellas and glossy rain boots in yellow or red
Fat raindrops speeding to bring hope and salvation to the deserted ground
Best of all I love to be completely surrounded by a storm:
Lighting so close it sends a  tingle along your skin and lights up the night like day,
Thunder so crashingly loud it resonates in your stomach and feet,
Stirring the primordial fear of unknown power,
of both darkness and of light
of the shadows and not of what casts them
but of certain illumination wrought with paradox,
The wind that blows up my dress and lifts the hair from my neck
filling my umbrella until I feel weightless
For one glorious moment, I almost believe I may float away with the storm

We cannot help but romanticize the phenomenal
Giving ever-changing names and faces to the forces of nature, believing l
or at least pretending
That they’re alive with us.
And maybe,
in a sense,
They are alive.
Not with us,
But within.
Kitt Oct 2023
the dream was sweet,
but it has ended.
and now I will not suffer this failure
and rejection
to thicken into a nightmare

I will wake up.
and the day will be brighter,
lit by candles held in vigil
by those whose arms are held open
to thaw me against warm hearts.

I will leave the cozy darkness of night
the blindness of the eve
to venture bravely into the briskness
of the morning,
wiping dew from the window
and embracing whatever storms
the new day should bring,
sheltered by umbrellas
held by those who care.
SG, EK, and GR
Kitt Jan 2020
my love language is silence
written into the script:
moments of lapsed conversation
where all is tranquil and serene.
or when we forget our lines and sit
in hushed reverence,
allowing one another’s stage presence
to wash over us like the backlights.
invisible audiences hold bated breath
waiting for a twist, a shock
but a twist, we have not rehearsed
instead we allow the unscripted silence
to wash over us in reverent bliss
our conjoined souls just content
allowing our minds to diverge
as long as we are together in the silence.
Kitt Jan 2019
Orion hangs
dutifully over the
Building adjacent to mine
His sparkling features
resemble a warrior
Lean and strong and toned

As I sit alone here in my car
Music plays softly.
My phone is about to die
yet I pull out my notes to scrawl out
A memory in the making

One of those that wasn’t
of a particular event
—A moment frozen inside itself
for no apparent reason.
A moment frozen in my mind
for no other reason
Than for its sheer simplicity, mundanity
And yet its softness.

Thinking of you
is what makes this moment
so crystal clear and bold.
Remembering your smile
is what emblazons right now
in my mind.

Memories of you sparkle
like stars against ebony skies
and draw constellations in my heart
Tracing patterns and marking paths
we have walked together
and paths we have yet to take.

And so, to Orion
I cast my final thoughts
of the night.
Kitt Sep 2023
Our Mother, who art of Terra
Cherished be thy heart
Thy wisdom is needed,
Thy guidance be heeded,
Wherever we arrive or depart.
As is above, so be below;
We ask of thee for our nourishment,
Feed us in body, in mind and in soul
Unite us under the blessed maypole
Even as we strive, to reach and to thrive
In search of individual goals.
Guide us with thy wisdom, towards brighter days ahead
And protect us from all forms of harm that may fall upon our heads
For thou art the Earth, the Mother,
Our Goddess forever and ever.
So mote it be.
Kitt Sep 2023
such an exhilarating phenomenon presents itself tonight
for the first time in so long
the curtain to the inner sanctum has been pulled askew
and in steps: you.
I hope I will not come to rue the moment
that led me to this start
though my intuition tells me that I am safe
with you in my heart.
for GR, my friend, the most unexpected blessing of this year
Kitt Jun 2022
elegant as an elephant
graceful as the flocking geese
she wears a tiara of burrs
upon her head and crows,
"look! I am the princess now."

fair Ramona, why do you cry?
there is nothing left for you there
those girls were mean as shrews
they only brought you shame
with their callous words and giddy games

Ramona, O Ramona, blessed art thou
amongst maidens
for thine is the healing, the mercy,
the clev'rest wit and purest soul
for now and forever and ever
a tribute to those who feel as ugly as ducklings
Kitt Oct 2020
I power down the computer and wait for the processes to shut down
and as I do, I recognize for a moment
the chiming shut-down sound
as the same sound that plays in my head on a loop when I am trying to sleep
when the silent room screams louder than I can hear over
but in my ears it rings out again and again
while I toss and turn

I did not get the same courtesy when I was reset.
Mine was a cold reboot, with no warning or preparation
I had no idea what was about to happen
when he unplugged me from my reality
or messed up my keys.
I only knew when I powered up again the next morning
that something was wrong.

Only then did I realize that my programming had been corrupted.
Kitt Nov 2019
Take me out on a Saturday night
and show me the world
kiss me under the stars
as Venus looks on, blushing
and Mars pumps his fists into the air.
dance me to a chamber filled with
Erotes, and sate their hungry appetites.
wrap your hands in my hair
let me swim in your Nymphetic waters
let us soak in the reverie
and lap up one another's salty waves.
close the distance between us
and rouge my skin with your claws
let Suada have her way with us:
let her persuade us to let go
of Minerva's harsh rule
and give in;
Let us remain in this lush place forever
or at least, until Rome falls around us.
Kitt Jul 2017
It smells like first love
Says the perfume bottle
Smells like true love
Says the bath bomb

What does first love smell like?
First love smells like rain
The heavy scent of the air
Before a thunderstorm

True love smells like cookies
Baking in the background
And a rich *** of coffee
Brewing from fresh beans

And of cinnamon in hot chocolate
And lavender, like my lotion
And spice, like his deodorant

First love smells lightly of sweat
Because you're nervous
True love smells like tears
Because it's never a dry-eyed affair

It smells like the flowers
Of the wedding bouquet
And the crimson and white
Christmas flower display

First love smells like body spray
Slathered on to hide the sweat
True love smells natural
Bad breath in the morning
And yet fine
Because it's theirs.

First love turns to sweet summers' air
Vanished with August's last week
True love kisses the scents
Both foul and fair
That break upon my cheek.
Kitt Jan 2019
Sun-kissed faces
freckled with light-spots
Barefoot ******* races
a season recalled in snapshots.

Boy-crazy, girl-crazy
they scan the shore for a dime
He-said, she-said; it’s warm and gold and hazy
nights so clear, stars glitter in skies sublime.

Innocence and wide-eyed bliss
forgetting the woes of the cold
Fingers interlace, heartbeats go amiss
steeping the hours in sunshine and gold.
Kitt Jun 2019
Will there ever come a day where I drown you in my words,
you sinking up to your ears in my grievances and tales
of sheer mediocrity?
Will there come a day when you cry out and beg me to be silent;
and since I am too shocked to know what else to do, I fall so?
Will there come a day when my endless tales become the bane of our love?
Kitt Jan 2018
Blue sky, smooth sailing
Balancing neon lights of my mind's eye
(as glassy waves lap against my feet)
And the innocent sands of a white-gold beach fantasy,
Soft, warm, and as sure as the day.

Graying sky, persevering
Forging ahead through tempestuous waves
(growing faster in speed and height than a father's son)
I cling to the sample of that white sand,
Bottled up in a tiny plastic nip.

Blackened sky, capsizing
Plummeting into jet-black sea
(stained in the lights of my fallen Titan)
The nip shattering, without my notice
Icebergs visible on the horizon of her heart
My sand lost into the radiant black seas
Never to be seen again.
Kitt Sep 2023
it’s strange;
whenever I think of you
(which is often, I must admit)
I can’t help but smile to myself
just a little bit.
I think I might be in trouble.
Kitt Jul 2022
Tell me it’s worth it, all of this pain
That life gives you more than this strain
Tell me it gets easier, somehow, from here
Tell me how someday I’ll live without fear

Whisper your promise that you’ll never leave
Swear on your soul that I’ll never bereave
Hold my hand against your beating heart
And make me believe that we’ll never part

Tell me it’s worth it to struggle along
Sing me a lullaby, a soft, solemn song
Impress upon me the truth that you speak
Be my strength when I am but weak

Ice in my heart brings no solace this time
Melt me with promises of summer sublime
Hold me and whisper your comforting lies
I’ll try to believe you until our demise

Tell me it’s worth it to feel this way now
Assure me, remind me of our sacred vow
Tell me I’ll have you forever and a day
Promise that love will always find a way

Perpetual lonesomeness takes its toll
My shattered existence is lacking a soul
But for now in this place I’ll trust in illusions
Crystalline happiness built on delusions

Tell me it’s worth it, and I’ll tell you the same
And together we’ll believe forever will remain.
Kitt Sep 2023
Somewhere between eggshells and landmines
Were the creaking floors upon which I played
Carefully, for her wrath could be detonated
At a footfall, just a bit too heavy
From a word uttered under the breath
A mess left too long in the sink.

But her embrace was warm,
Wrapping around me like sheets from the dryer
And when she put on pause her own life
To tend to me at my sick-bed,
Her eyes showed only tender love.
“My baby goat,” she would say, affectionately,
And leave a kiss upon my feverish brow.

She is a living contradiction, my mother:
Churning disapproval shattering the gleam
That she put into the hopeful eyes of a child
Just a moment before.
I lived in perpetual uncertainty,
Never knowing which mother I might see next:
The raven or the hen.

And now she looks at me with disappointment,
Wondering aloud why her children fear her.
Her capriciousness eroded away any trust
And much of the fondness as well
Her hot-blooded adoration
And her ice-cold tantrums
Have mixed so long now
All that is left is
Lukewarm like the bathwater
Left over from when the
Baby was thrown out.
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