All spun out like the chaff,
the fire breathing drags on,
clever little jots and tittles thrown in anger.

But nothing good ends well,
as the saying went.

I never wanted anything
but your happiness,
and I will not reciprocate the attacks.

I am not like the others,
and you know it.

Clamp onto my weakness,
precious.
Where did you run to,
holiness?

Your everything
equaled torn ligature,
some jaw-grinding equation
where I sent prayers,
unanswered.

Strip me naked,
break my bones,
open your heart,
and breathe in the butterflies.

Hush little babygirl
don't you cry,
Daddy's gonna read you
to beddy-bye time,
And if that story
doesn't work,
Daddy's gonna *******
until you squirt.
And if that squirting
don't make you sleep,
Daddy'll fill your ***
with His special treat.
And if that treat
don't make you swoon,
Daddy's gonna cuddle you
like a little spoon.
Cos Daddy knows
how to care for you,
and wash away all that
makes you blue.

I am just a ghost in your machines
low as binary, weak ink traces
a lost little girl
justice is never wrought
the leftover heart break I thought
and you still occupy
the cracks in my heart.

Sway, little leaf.
Fragile like the wind that wraps about your mind,
pushing places where you fear you will perish.

Float, little leaf,
searching through the illumination in the dark.

It will come, little one,
it will come.

You will find a place to rest,
set down your roots,
and grow strong,
branches without boundaries,
encircling our world.

The pain of loneliness weighs you down;
do not let it.
Spin high and free,
carried by the winds of your desires,

The eyes around you are not looking with disgust,
they are looking with envy,
which makes the forest green.

I am empty
with nothing to fill me.
Empty me out
but nothing to pour into.
Just tip me over,
and out nothing comes.
Drowning and empty,
my scream from the lungs.

I am a piano, slightly out of tune
but my dissonance makes you notice me.

I am a steady nurturing rain
and I keep you cool and wet.

I am the sunlight on a blackened world,
that brings the music of memories
and the life of fresh precipitation.

to the rhythm of "Miss Muffet"*

A lone little girl
sat in her room
holding her stuffie so tight.
The terrible shadows
wrapped close about her
forcing her sad eyes to cry.

she cut at the shadows
but cut only herself
wishing the shadows would leave.
she dreamed of a plant
that could bloom over her booboos
where she had made herself bleed.

Her shame was so mean
and crawled bout the corners
where all the mean memories lay.
"Can't sumbudy save me
an chase out the night,
befow I cut mysef away?"

When suddenly to
her surprise and delight
the door opened, pouring in light.
The shadows hissed cruel
as they slinked off in fear,
cursing and suffering blight.

The sound of His voice
was all that it took
to chase the bad memories away.
"Come to Daddy's arms
my sweetest of treasures,
Daddy's now here to stay."

"you will not be scared.
you will not have fright,
as long as you hold Me tight.
Daddy will be here
to cuddle you close,
all throughout the night."

I am swelling amongst the waves
violet petals crash hard about,
dash me onto hard dreams.

Every stance is futile here,
mouths opening to receive me,
knife-edges awaiting my blood.

I have so rescue,
and so I think to you.

Stagnant,
the waters polluted
by childhood nightmares
that crept about your head at night.

There are branches bending
in the marsh's breath,
weakening against
the fingers of the Sun.

I am not so arrogant as to think
I am the Sun in this metaphor,
princess.

No,
I stand in waters of my own,
dark like yours
where I wade through to you
where I pollinate your lotus,
lick your petals clean of dew,
and caress your fragile root.

"Your marriage is falling apart, Rick,"
she had cried in pain

but I knew better:

She'd already given up the moment she decided
it was no longer "our" marriage.

He was a spider
perched on the ceiling
watching her where
she lay, crying
in the dark,
her drool slithering a murmur.

Wearing my words, she holdse far.
Fist aflame against her men,
as she stands in fingers and teeth
and ribs breaking skull.

But, oh...

How could less be more when
all that she has ever wanted
is writing this for her?

But oh...

If she only knew
all I've gone through,
skies of red,
and dreams of blue.

But oh...

In refrain like a sad song
that tears fall gently from,
is all that this boy has
for the night.

And so I beat my fists,
aflame,
on my pillow
praying my hair
catches fire.

Does she know the words hit
like a sudden explosion of colour,
blue, green, red.

I am curled in a mother's arms again,
feel like a child,
and my eyes well up.

No one has ever reached me
the way you did
with your such sweet
simple words.

Her words
bring me to earthquakes,
if I had held someone before
I no longer recall.

I am lain bare,
barely aware
of these binary borders
holding me back.

Her body curves like flowers,
I have bent backwards
on numbing fingertips,
and still she sits,
a spell
possessing my soul.

There are things I could tell you
about myself,
lesions awakened in a cloud of poppies,
burn the tracks and the bridge
that contained them,
only to realize
I was on the bridge.

You appeared
like a boat underneath
to rescue me,
but you being a ghost beneath,
only makes...

I'm falling asleep...

You are a dream,
But am I only dreaming you?

Feathers burst forth
seared with sunlight.
The coast is clear,
baby girl,
the waves are breaking
turquiose shores,
and my heart
is aching to consume you.

"And every time he woke up in the coldest sweat
Scrawled to the bone with her nails
was the promise that she wouldn't let go..." ~ "Momento Mori" by Antemasque*

I was dreaming
about you
and realized
I haven't dreamed
about her
in weeks.

Tied to furniture
in near-weeping posture:
lust can always bring you here,
carried in its spider-cradle arms,
eager for my marks
across your hidden spots.

I am your ***** little secret,
*****.

I have erased my name,
in shadows lurk,
behind barely closed curtains,
watched by Gideon Bibles,
hazed in blue television light,

your only sound,
barely abled gasps of,
"Yes, Daddy...please, Sir.
Yes, Daddy...hurt me more."

Tied down,
bruised,
bitten,
opened,
all your secrets revealed,

collapse
into the pool of *******,
muddle your words just enough
smile your bottom lip,
cutting against your teeth.

I have won the respect of the princess,
shown her the strength she has,
awoken her mind.

My reward is the ownership of her whorish body.

There is a long tail of madness
that echoes from this wreckage. Molotov is making cocktails,
as Kalashnikov assaults us
at forty-two plus five.

Triptamine takes the backseat,
and your carpet bombs
lay me to waste,
******.

We had such a luminous trial
survived our sentence, self-imposed
on cluttered hearts.

We could have had everything...

But you started listening to other voices
The ones outside our heads,
fused at the soft-spots.
The ones that sang sweet ******,
the ones we left our suicide
to please

and those murmuring homicides
murdered what we were,
scalped our skulls apart,
and you let them.

I have been bleeding to death
from the top of my brain
ever since.

I am grocery bags,
carried through your rain,
now split at their soggy bottoms
spilling what you filled me with
(fresh produce, water, sustenance)
all over the ground
like rotten, polluted, abandoned
trash.

The concourse lays out between you and I,
allow this reprimand,
accept this brokerage
in escrow.

Weep the clouds
out of those spinning absences you left,
broken, open, empty,
and full of terror.

you will *** for Me, until you cannot speak
and for that,
you will call Me, "Daddy."

you will mold to My desire, which is only to better you
and for that,
you will call Me, "Sir."

you will bend to Me, but I won't break you
and for that,
you will call Me, "Master."

I was sailing back to you,
I would have sailed all the way across those
vicious seas, through the rocks,
on your breeze.

I would have caught your tailwind,
and sailed, like Magellan, around the globe,
but you were turning the Earth against me.

I would have sailed back to you,
tattered sheets on splintered masts,
makeshift oars to guide me, broken.

I would have sailed back to you,
to your harbor, crumbling,
and helped repair it, fixed.

I would have sailed back to you,
but
your tailwind became a headwind,
you burned my sails,
shattered my masts,
stole away my oars, and
destroyed your harbor.

And now I float,
desperate
starving
thirsting...

But I am now finding,
in the absence of your blinding star light,
that there are other harbors
that could save me from
the storm that you've become.

You've got a little secret, don't you?

The women envious of that ***,
jealous of those eyes,
hating your hips and *******,

the men hungry for that ***,
hypnotized by those eyes,
mouths watering for those hips and *******,

but they know that
you are a good girl
you don't do those terrible things they think
you are innocent, pure, locked up
tight.

But you've got a ***** little secret, don't you?

You walk around with
your skin burning for a touch
your mouth begging for a ****
your ******* longing to be pinched and pulled
your *** eager for a *******
your throat hoping to be choked
**** cheeks burning for a beating
and a warm little wet spot on your *******
all day long.

You've got a secret,
a ***** little secret,
don't you?

Scrawling drawings in bone coins,
desperately attempt to pull you from a hole of
skipping heart and
tightening chest.

My pen is crooked,
my lines are numb,
and I'm wishing you were awake.

Little girl,
lay your weary head in the black space
that is unwinding between us,
a void to lose yourself in.

A train-station railway burning down to bare metal,
a dove flying away and spreading the ash.
If only that dove could carry you away somewhere
safe inside my mind.

The bone in your heart
chokes you sometimes.
I'd ease all of your concern
with a touch.

Your heart is dark-clouds.

Lay your weary head in my lap,
little girl,
dream of dandelions floating away
through this cloudless, broad blue sky,
bend your chest up into the calming sunshine,
let go,
and rest.

Let me wreck you,
bind you across the world
in hunger wrest
control away for you.

Scalpel through
the ample blue
ravages a belly
never true.

When right is lost
a cashmere sentence
is **** in mouth
all that's left to us?

Just a drop
on your tongue.

An act of
charity.

Show me submission
I will show you something
to gag on,
*****.

Show me submission
I will show you something
to swallow,
*****.

Show me submission
I will show you something
to *** on,
****.

Give me submission.
Give me submission.
Give me submission.

I will give you a place
where bruises feel like caresses
where danger feels like safety
where fear feels like release
where lust feels like love
where disgrace feels like an embrace
where every name and threat of
******
is stretched out
the same as your
long legs
*** cheeks
open mouth
dripping hive
aching heart.

I am wrapping my open mouth around your flesh
teeth are brittle
but skin gives quicker.

How wide could you spread?

Spread you out like a butterfly,
mascara running down across my fingers
you desperately grasp for air through.

Your words
cannot escape through my palm,
but by the time I remove it,
you will no longer be capable
of forming them.

You won't even remember your own ******* name
by the time I'm done with you.

Just like a dream that seems a lifetime,
is often only a few seconds in real-time,
you passed before my mind and heart
making eight years seem like an instant.

Now I am
waking
wondering
if you were real.

Now I am
trying to get up from
the bed that we made
the bed that you sleep on now
rub your sleep out of my eyes
see again
the things that are real.

You were railroad track marks
the spots you placed
up and down like pinhole cigarette stains
all across my breaking heart.

You were an escape artist act
up in the sky
like memories of sharp objects
drawn
across our skin.

They say people cut themselves
to feel some control,
but they are wrong.
We opened skin
to make sure
we were still human.

There are names for girls like you:
pretty, pure, and more...

But I know ones that are liked the best,
you ***** ******* *****.

I was thinking about
your phantom body pressed warmly cool against me,

and I thought of...

tasting your harmony breath,
tracing fingertips across your vapour soft belly skin,
tickling rings around the small of your horizon bending small-of-back, grasping your silk as *** ***,
swallowing your sweet sticky blooming sugar flower.

and then...

*******
              grabbing
                              choking
                                            spanking
                                                             scratching
                                                                            moaning
                                                             slapping
                                                   biting
                                   pinching
                screaming
*******

a cleansing storm

                       all
   over
             you.

I don't write for you.
I don't write for even myself.
I write for simply no reason
and so very much less.

I'm sending out signals,
trench warfare's got me down.
Digging through this foxhole,
looking for believers.

There isn't much left for me now,
as the yellowed gas rolls in,
except to look at my flare, high and bright,
(your angel-tongue hair, blowing in the wind)
and hope that you will see it.

Squeeze the bone until the chalk runs dry
escaping into your body
unwound like chalk
on a whiteboard.

Lust should only allow so much;
but you find places, cracks in this
brittle sidewalk, where
you grow through
green,
like grass.

You haunting ******* ignition switch,
the nail's-head trigger was hung over like
a pendulum Poe would be proud of.
I'd have stopped elevators with my blood and bone,
held it back, pushed it back,
taken my life out in a splash of cement chalk-lines,
to save you.

I still dream of you.

The good dreams hurt
much more than
the bad ones did,
when you still lived.

I used to
burn for you,
now I
burn away.

I'm swallowing pieces of paper,
dissolving the fragments of
your holy ghost on the
moist surface of my tongue,
the one that still means
all the lies it told.

So I am shaving my eyebrows off,
over this white porcelain sink
(it was never as pure as you),
sanding my fingers down to nubs,
and licking razors until
the tongue is gone,
and only the truth of silence remains.

I would dig deep:

past the

sun-dress
knee-highs
*******

to the

flesh
scars
secrets

bring back the

joy
confidence
excitement

protect them with my

heart
words and
deeds.

...my puppet on a string
mistaken feelings
a mixed drink of
clutched-breathed *******
and red-road nail marks?

Your hand,
(fingers spread)
palm pushed knuckle-white to the wall, shakes.

I am behind you...

My free hand:

pulls your hair like a leash...
breaking against your ***...
held firmly over your wet, open mouth...
wrapping around to *******,
polishing your pearl,
collar of fingers...

Drinking down your melted chalk,
yet always choke it down.
Which of your nicotine stained lies,
inside this belly's grown?

Backslide, the tongue, tracing the stitches on the
Toltec pyramid I've erected to you.
I've begged permission,
let me walk into it's depths,
desecrate it,
splatter this *****
across the inner walls in hieroglyphics
that spell out the simple joy of our shared muscular spasms.

The hair on your
arms,
back of neck,
belly,
is standing *****.

I can feel it.

Let the darkness,
like oil, seep
from the soft fallow soil
of your past
and into
my open mouth
and past
my pearl-white teeth,  
and into
my stomach.

Let the darkness,
like never seen secrets,
flow up
and through
my weeping heart,
and into
my filter brain,
and out of
my eyes as brilliant light
dispelling your shadows.

My heart cost less than I expected.
You spent every cent of it.
You borrowed against its little value,
ruined my ability
to ever lend it again.

I have never meant a thing
(laying in my blood...seeping)
like the title I've given you.

My bones reach you too late.
Would
excuses heard as lies
lead our ghosts into
their graves?

My skin soaks you too soon.
Would
heart-break lived as death
give my life a way
into my tomb?

My loyalty ***** your face.
Could
prayers answered in vain
let my life ever
escape itself?