I've missed the pink morning sun...
Left with the mundane,
the clotting cliched orange,
what's left of night:::
My mind starts its dervish dizzy dance
Spin spin sanguine sprung...
This means she starts her day too:::
First her slow laps around my memory...
the smiles born are unmasked
she walks slow motion circles around my subconscious
Till my psyche takes a turn...
hey Mr. Id
don't be afraid tuck it away (just because you are crazy/no need to share the secret)
Next she takes her marionette strings of the oft erection (already tucked/no shame):::
She stands a sentinel at my subconscious She breathes...
she is exhausted
everywhere in my being:::
She bleeds into my heart:::
Her thoughts stimulate my mind with a tapestry of complexity...
Loosens the lethargy, lets me know I still have a soul:::
A cadence, a beauty in our lust...
If she reminds me of me, does that mean I should go fuck myself???
The cocaine cowboys
The opiate operatives
Those children of lesser god
A gluttonous glory
for the wrath of the "righteous"
The deadpan stare of the Deadly Sins
A love predicted upon jealousy and lust
as we wait in envy till
the prideful are graveyard pale with the rest of us
With caveman intentions
and a cowboy
he approaches her...
a cretinous bull:::
the candelabra glow, those mesmerizing midnight eyes, serve as the tip of her whip and her talons
with a fistful
forever between her
Wanting to be close to you
Trying to Make Sense of It All
In sepia stained images
perhaps in some
Victorian sacrosanct bond born in a time of sacred innocence
Of all of those black and white photos
an image of pure love
is bound to exist
The Strong Silent Type
The steeling of a spine
Masculinity isn't a dirty word
The cocksure drawl sprung from character
And any thoughts of red petal wrist droplets
Remained locked, entombed in the subconscious
Petrus Romanus Rock for your Love
Still you spend a lifetime talking
Until your voice, it becomes
Still you seek the touch of material things
Until your fingers remain
Still you saturate
Until you drank brown liquor
in the blue
Still hate myself as a whiny victim
Until I seek a renaissance
Still herded cubicle conditioned
Upend my humanity::: do as told for a couple bucks
Still a slow bleed with that nine to five
Until you emerge a caricature::: with a
As I still my rage for a second.
Apoplectic defeated apoptosis, I see it's all been done before
I see it is a virus...
omnipotent fate, futility forged,
a life already played
throughout time on velum, parchment and papyrus