two parts fiction
three parts dream
thread from a cloud
tear from the sea
a love affair
of sweat and lust
bent over
with hips high
and head low
hard thrusts
and muffled moans
bite marks
as kisses trail
with tounge twisted
between thighs
of your soft heaven
and the sinful scent
of blood
and cream
left on my
dripping fingertips
from your moist fold
that your lips devour
and swallow down
no hesitation
as heads
and hands
and limbs
mix into something
of pain and bliss
we lose ourselves
on the edge
of ecstasy
and thunderstorms
of electricity
and tumble back
and crash through
two parts fiction
and three parts dream
and we become
a thread
stiched through
a tear
of a love affair
at the bottom
of a forgotten sea

She had a broken heart tattooed on the eyelid that covered the eye that was blinded by all the battles she had fought in the name of love

I sit out under the dying sun and feed the hungry mosquitoes of early summer and something else under my skin itches that bothers me more than the simply annoyance of tiny bugs enjoying the blood circling through my flesh and it's not something treatable with slaves or lotions or repellents and it isn't as simple as day turns into night and there just isn't anything that can be done about it but it's far more complex than it need be and should be easier to solve than it ever will be  because the ego of man pitted against intellect and compassion is an easy thing to ******* and nothing of nothing can be solved in the face of a man with a tiny brain that can't process same amount of electricity it takes a baby to say "mama" without short circuiting and going on a twitter rant like a pre-teen in a flame war over which Pokémon character could beat up The Hulk and it's just embarrassing to be human in today's world because I **** you not the dung beetles and cockroaches are life forms worthy of more respect than we are with the crap we're letting go on in today's world and it's just  a dam shame that I can't manage to do more with my blood and flesh then feed some tiny little bugs that don't have to worry about any of the ******* we willingly swim through on a day to day bases and it all bares the weight of a meaningless existence when the dollar out weighs the soul according to the Dow Jones and why should we be worth anything more than what we can do to profit those that have too much but still need more and more when the poor have just enough or almost enough to survive because as long as the poor have the will to survive on less and less and are willing to feast on the trash of the upper filthy class oh did I word that wrong I meant filthy rich in a haha good show James but who let the rift raft into the room way and if a lie is believed as the truth why not just make it the truth and put it into law and separate and divide and spread fear and hate to the gullible and take from the poor and give it all to the rich because god and the devil are dead or make believe or long gone because face it who in their right mind would battle for our wretched souls in the first place but at the end of the day at least I can watch the sun sink and feed something tiny that will at least leave an itch that I can easily scratch and if its all for nothing I'm going to toss it all away to anyone who needs the love because that's the one thing I'll always have for anyone who needs it and can see through all the ******* and is tired of swimming for nothing of nothing and if that's you or you or you come find me at the end of the day and maybe just maybe we can set things right or at least try to do something meaningful despite our meaningless existence

She touched his forehead with her pinky
and he fell out of his body
and into a state of dream and wonder
floating between the slow movement of eternity
and the quick death of the moment
and she spoke of many things
and with every word
that flowed from her mouth
he saw fireworks burst with magic
in the coffee colors of her eyes
and with one sentence
she tickled his intellect
and with the next
gave a feast for his mind
to ponder and savor
and with a gentle word
of this and that
she warmed the deepest pools within his heart
and he saw colors he had not seen before
as she removed each layer of mystery
of the skin of her tattooed soul
and she was a riddle of beauty and truth
and a secret not meant to be unlocked
but only understood by listening attentively
and a new spectrum of light
beamed from her heart
and out through her ribs
and she showed him the meaning of life
with a simple laugh and a mischievous grin
and then gently lifted him back into his body
and then sealed him back in with a kiss
over the hole her pinky had made
and then vanished into the mist
of a love lost dream

Death looked down in fear
and trembled at the horrors of mankind
and wept to know
we would treat the kingdom of the dead
as poorly as we had the land of the living

She was a ball of chaos made out of the yarns of mayhem and the threads from a dream of madness and he felt like a kitten curious and eager to pounce and play and purr and get tangled in her knitted webs of love

When beauty is felt and not seen...
when we feel it within ourselves
and beyond ourselves...
from the center of our ribs
to the farthest reaches of the unknown...
when we go blind and suddenly see everything
more clearly and vividly...
when we need not our hands to touch
or our mouths to kiss
or our tongues to tangle
or our bodies to collide...
when we leave the sensations of our bodies
in their twisted agony
and dance of lust under sheets
while the spark and electricity
of our beings traverse the stars...
when beauty consumes us
and becomes us
and makes us something new...
when we speak without words...
when we hear songs from the silence...
when we tremble from things
other than fear...
when we our lost to everything
but a dream weaved from the threads
and blood of our hearts...
when beauty is felt and not seen...
is this not love?

He wore a mustache below his crooked nose twisted into handlebar shaped antlers and he spoke through his teeth with lies he stole from the devils lips on a night full of the bloodletting of lust and the strands of his beard where frozen swirls of black smoke hanging from the bottom of his outer jawline and there was dark magic spinning tales in the carmel brown of his eyes and she knew not a single truth hung there in the air seperating their hungery mouths and could taste the fire within his lungs before their tounges tangled and as they kissed she pulled out his soul and stole his fire and his breath and slipped her hands through his ribs and gently squeezed her fingers around his heart and with a swift flick of her wrist carved her intials in his pulse and he was wrapped around the desire and arch of her spine and he abandoned his dreams and his hopes and swore over his heart to the voyage of her ship and exploration of the seas and storms of her love and tied his wrist to the mast and spoke an unbreakable vow to forever sail under her name and her crown through this life and through the bones of his death and should he rise again wander the lonely shores until he found her seas and ship and heart and would then be hers again

she had a poem where her soul was suppose to be and the pupils of her eyes had been carved out from the black void before the beginning of time
she knew more than any man or woman or god and only ever lost at anything when playing checkers and
tic-tac-toe with children
there was an intricate and gentle song that hummed in the depths of her heart and her blood flood with the slow ease of the last drop of honey from a jar
an unending kindess flowed from her gaze and she was continuously looking for those in the most need
she existed within the fabric of dreams and the horizon of eternity
and the beauty of love was an endless fairytale tattooed along
the curves of her spine
she has walked quietly through your dreams and gathered all the tears of heartache and grief you have ever shed and turned them into stars and moons and wishes of good tidings
she is there everytime you fall in love and and everytime your heartbreaks and it is with strands of her hair that she stiches the broken pieces back together and whispers sweet words of hope to chase away the feelings of despair
and you know her by
a name you will never speak in
a language you will never know
and when dreaming
you can always hear
your heart reading
her poem to your soul

I only look good to you
in the rear view mirror
In the retrospect of looking back
when you have nowhere else to go
You offer up apologies
and expect me not to notice
the subtle hidden lies
Your kind words are years too late
and laced with the same poison
that killed the love
I once trusted you with
And what do you expect me
to say or do when I know your words
rarely carry any weight of sincerity
And I see nothing different
in the rear view mirror
and looking back I can only wonder
how did I ever find your lies beautiful

In the solitude of lonely rage dreams scatter beneath translucent skin in graphite lines and watercolor pans and tubes of paint spread by the course hairs of a worn out brush held by fingertips weathered and craked and stained with acrylic ink and blood and ***** spill into the wasted hours of pornographic procrastination as hands are busy stroking everything but ego and ambition and time has no need for patience or excuses and moved at its own pace despite the moving gears of the cuckoo clock trying to convince it otherwise and only mankind would be foolish enough to try to claim time can be measured and trapped and strapped to a wrist to cover up the color of thoughts of suicide and the bruises of wasted desperation as the tick tick tock of the bird inside the clock waits in lonely rage for its hour of desperation

Lead and hate made a hole in his chest
and now Tony won't sing no more
And now Maria has nothing
but blood and time on her hands
and nowhere to go
and her voice has grown cold
And as she watched his blood stained with hate
flow through the street
she forgave the hole and the lead
And she held the gun
  she held the gun
But she couldn't find the hate
to pull the trigger
Only the tears for the death of a song
she could hear echoing
somewhere
in in the dreams of yesterday