Her eyes are not like the sun;
more red like coral red.
Her ******* are dun
and cold,
like snow.
Black wires grow on her head.
I think my love is rare
as any with false compare.
I know music hath a more
pleasing sound,
but I love to hear her
speak.

I breathe in the cold day
and my lungs are chilled.
When I speak
the words dissipate
into nothingness so fast;
leaving no odor,
no form or meaning,
but smoke stays around.
There is passionate tenacity.
Just a kiss,
a little suction
and she feels me
with warmth and weight,
next to my heart and above my stomach;
right where love is.
It lingers with me
on my tongue,
in my throat.
I have to wash my hair twice to get her out.

I look and I see a bird
perched on a stack
or chimney or something.
Sometimes it would be nice to think naive thoughts
about whether these birds chirp with an accent;
that they say their vowels a little differently.

Directly, I understand I don't know anything yet,
and I directly see the world as knowledge,
but the choice is whether I purge the world and
set it on fire,
breath in the smoke.
I could choose naivety but I want flesh, blood, bone and ***.

The barmaid,
the one with the toned forearms
and the cute accent,
looks like you.

Feelings come back momentarily.
I keep my mouth shut,
like I always have.
That's our relationship.

Congrats on your engagement.

I cross the yellow lines listening, wanting some punk destruction. Speeding, now, always, down the hill in N. I floor the pedal, screaming to the nightdreamers I was here. Burning the gasoline in my veins. They stay asleep. They don't deserve my howl, my cry, my kiss, but I'll keep screaming until my heart stops beating.

Hell is if I actually died.

With Jungle eyes
and cougar hide,
you sit at the bar in
idle conversation.
Your age doesn't fit
your face
but on your tummy,
just above your waist,
wrinkled nebulae and the half moon scar
show your whole universe.
And you show me the ethereal
ways of love and ***.
I thought there was more to it,
but that naive notion falls flaccid,
as you grab your dress,
pull it over your head
and leave.

She grabs me by my eyes.
Blinded by her beauty I try to find her,
but she has me in her right hand.
Yelling her name to let me see her,
I taste her thumb in my mouth and
the garbled question arises,
"what am I doing?"
She tastes like pennies.
I begin to trust her.
I allow her to take me.
She allows me to take her,
and I embrace her softly and
she tightens her grip.
She makes it for my heart.
The little pressure on my chest grows,
it becomes hard to breath.
It grows, I am confused.
With one final force she puts her foot up on my sternum and leaps back,
tearing off nose,
my incisors,
letting my eyes droop toward the floor.
All I can see are the shoes of the other she held with her left.