hard-wood rocking-horse
between thighs of porcelain white.
sweat drips, rhythmic oscillation
of bones that ferrociously grind.

salty, soft, sweet-wine lips;
heavy, humid, breath of steam.
closed-eyes search for surrender,  
and signs of admitted defeat.

hymns of pleasure-ridden-falsettos echo;
eruptive moans reverberate in diaphragms;
trapped in throats, restricted groans
fight their way out of closed mouths.

tearing through flesh
arrows find their targets:
bombarded zones left unguarded
are continually pillaged without regret.

hard-wood rocking-horse
still ****** between thighs
of ruined statues of goddesses
made of porcelain, so white.

Blood drains from my face
and my throat gets dry;
I'm finding myself
A little stupefied.
I gravitate towards you:
You see, I'm mesmerized.
As days go by,
My feelings intensify.

Call me crazy,
and say I'm a fool,
But cliches seem novel
When they're happening to you.

There's no use trying to hide
How you're making me feel inside
'Cause you just had to do it,
You just had to start
Your all-consuming fire
In my flammable heart.

Every now and then
I catch myself smile
At the thought of you and I
Giving it a try.
Soon enough,
Daydreams will ensue.
Once again, I'm trapped
In my thoughts of you.

Her eyes are deep pools of cool blue.
Open but empty, staring blankly
Into infinite space.

Her smile - formed by wax-like lips -
Is stiff, emotionless, almost as if concealed.
but her mouth trembles as it traces
the letters of an irrelevant name.

Her scent moves through the crowd
and permeates your consciousness.
It shoves and pushes aside thoughts,
Making its way into your awareness.

A sound slithers into your ear:
A whisper transcending the noise around.
Despite the ruckus of chaotic discourse,
Her endearing voice is the only sound.

The night slowly grows old
Whilst more stories are told.
Histories fail to unfold
as endless lies are bought and sold.

(presumptions of non-existent subtleties
has claimed its fair share of casualties)

More is said, but less is revealed
Meandering timelines of hurt
Kept hidden beneath the scars
of wounds that have seemingly healed.

I feel it slowly tightening,
As it wraps around my heart:
This feeling; something I
Know all too well.
Whether indirectly, or
In most cases, directly,
I am always the knife
That inflicts the wound.

Perhaps I'll never learn:
I might not be capable;
My mistakes never become lessons
And neither do they lessen.
Being accustomed to the past,
I am unable to move on.
A force of habit can
Be difficult to unlearn.

So I continue to make
Mistake after mistake:
There are times when I don't even
Remember making some them.
Soon, regret follows;
It torments and consumes
Until there is nothing left
Except anger and frustration.

I am wrong, you are right,
Even if that is not the case:
I am willing to forgo logic;
I don’t need logic.
I don’t need to be right.
I need you…
Always.

Which is why I'll try
Again and again
To make amends
For all my wrongs.
Even if my desperate pleas,
My countless apologies
Will always fall
On deaf ears.

My pride is not important,
At least not anymore,
I’ll throw it away
If it will fix things.
But I am not to be trusted;
I'm the knife that digs
And twists in your side…
As you are the one in mine.

You constantly search for
Yet fail to see what is already there.
I thought you knew;
Subtlety is my favorite vice.

I understand your need,
I feel your longing;
You never seem hesitant
To remind me.

Is it so wrong to trust you?
To love you enough to pretend?
I thought you knew;
Martyrdom is one of my many follies.

Just because I do not wince
At every infliction of pain
Doesn't mean I can not feel;
Expression was never my forte.
I do try and, little by little,
I'll prove to you that the "real me"
Is better than the "idea of me" that
You created in your mind.

You, the way you are,
On the other hand,
Are more than enough for me;
I just thought I should let you know.

I am flawed and undeserving, but
Willing to work on myself, on us:
I am yours, you are mine; I love you...
And I will keep letting you know.

days and nights and days
all melding into one
a temporary escape lies
at the bottom of a bottle.

in ash-blackened mountains,
white soldiers in crumbling helmets
crowd glass barracks to the brim
as they burn in embers of regret.

awake, arise and stumble;
residual drunken stupor;
rehydrate as hungry stomach grumbles;
flip through blurred snapshots
of the night before.

double, over-exposures
forever lost in your strobe-light mind.
massaging temples, rubbing eyes,
you let slip this futile plight.

I roll my window down
And light a cigarette between my lips
The flame crackles and flickers
As it dances with the wind
   Take a deep breath
   And let it all sink in

The rhythm of the asphalt waves
Sends me reeling in my seat
As my pulse keeps pace
With the songs on repeat

Don't know how long this will last
My destination's approaching fast
Turn around and head the other direction
Find a way to suspend this state of elation

Don't call me back, no, not yet
Give me some time to clear my head
Underneath the sea of stars and streetlights
I begin to allow myself to unwind

I am weightless on this road
My mind bends as the miles unfold
This is my refuge, and on I tread
Aware yet unfazed by what lies ahead.